#I just want to work with adults not this high school mean girl bullshit

[vestiges-of-light]

.

[cvbullshit]

Now that Yandere Dev is dead in the water and his game is as deep in the sand as he is.. I, a random person on the internet, vote that we as a community take the concept of Yandere Simulator and make it into something better!

Because the concept IS decent, just the execution needs work... A lot of work.

Everyone should have their own ideas for it so Imma say my vague concept that I probably won't ever bring up again.

For my new take on the concept, for one, almost all the main characters are actually going to be adults. It's stated that they already are but that's bullshit that Yandere Dev clearly used to justify some in game bullshit, they're in fucking high school, maybe one could be 18, but not fucking all of them.

Second, I might replace Ayano with some demonic or otherworldly being that's not exactly in love with Taro but heavily obsessive and interested in him, possessive even. Because honestly, while the point of the story IS a Yandere school girl, that topic has been milked to absolute death and is prone to get boring as hell. Plus, it's my idea to rewrite the story, I can take it as far as I damn want!

If Ayano is a demonic being in this, possibly Taro could be in this occult team/club/gang/cult so that way Ayano has REASON to be interested and connected to him.

Taro, in this rewrite, is a complex person. He's a nice guy, lives alone with and takes care of his 13 year old sister after his dad ditched them and he kiiiinnnda murdered his mom for the cult he's in and because he just disliked her. Yeah, Taro ain't no goodie two shoes bland mf now! He may be nice, treats his sister well, and partly believes he's a good person but he's in a cult, is willing to murder people who he thinks deserves it or anyone who threatens to find out about his crimes, and he supports cannibalism, under the right circumstances though. He still comes off as, and kinda is, a nice guy who wants to help people in any way he can, real protective of his friends and whom he dubs as innocent. He's got the mentality of wanting to see half the world burn and half the world blossom, he wants all those he thinks are bad or beyond helping to suffer while he wants the ones he believes are innocent to live happy and healthy lives.

Him and Ayano's dynamic is something I'm still thinking about honestly, as while rewriting the other characters is somehow easy, rewriting Ayano is just a pain for me somehow, it's hard to really rewrite anything about her and I don't know why. I may keep her emotionless thing going on though, not sure.

For Taro's sister, she's a slightly bratty newly teen, is very attached to her brother as he's the only family she has left but isn't overly affectionate with him, if anything, she's the most bratty with him. She doesn't expect too much from him and doesn't believe she can pout or whine to get her way but slightly does so to be petty and because Taro doesn't really react negatively to it... Yet. She has no idea what happened to her mom, just views her as missing, and has no idea Taro is in a cult. To her, she's got a normal life, despite her mom going missing and viewing her dad as the biggest jackass alive.

Taro and Osana's relationship and meeting is pretty different in this, Osana won't be Taro's childhood friend, I'll be giving that to someone else, instead Osana is a girl living in an apartment building, cooped up in her apartment and barely interacting with the outside world. After a stalking and obsessive situation she was the victim of, leading to the death of her cat, she swore she'd never trust the world again. Her apartment is a mess as she has no friends, she cut off her family, and she has no one to even talk to, she could technically be counted as a slob but at least she keeps herself clean. She hates the world and especially has issues with men.

When she meets with Taro for the first time, she wants absolutely nothing to do with him, constantly is mean to him, insults him, ect. Taro would've not dealt with her after their first interaction but learns what a state she's in from the apartment building owner and vows to try to help her and be kind to her. Why? Because he feels bad for her... And because he accidentally ran over a cat so he feels the need to feel better about himself, using the excuse of trying to prove to the world or some higher force that he can still be a good person. So...

I will leave it there! My ramblings went off the rails and this is only a concept that I have no idea I'll even touch on again.

[ahhscheisse]

Y’know what’s weird? People saying some guy is in an unhappy marriage. We don’t know that and coming from a history of being surrounded by “broken” families - you don’t know until they tell you. A lot of people choose to wait until their kids are adults to divorce. Some stay to work things out. Some seem unhappy but aren’t. Some pretend to be happy. Some are toxic. Some are so overbearing in their love it seems fake. Some are so settled you wonder if there’s romance at all. This isn’t about anyone in particular, but I’ve heard it a million times. About musicians and actors and artists. About family and friends and distant friends of friends of friends of family. Maybe I just don’t read enough magazine to know where these stories erupt from, but it feels like people are just taking things too far. We focus so hard on the people trying to maintain privacy and genuine and healthy relationships and then there’s Jimmy Page and that big headed actor who chronically date girls they’re too old for in fucking dog years and there’s jokes on jokes and then radio silence while everywhere reverts back to, “whose wife is the most soul sucking leach to be married to?”

Stuff like this kills me because I grew up in it. They’ll blame the wife and they’ll make up stories about both of them. Make believe bullshit to justify their distaste for either person in a relationship they don’t exist inside. Fucking weird. The people you spread rumors about are real - whether or not they’ve been in a gossip rag is irrelevant. Gossip can be healthy and a normal way to determine boundaries and what people want in relationships - but some of you act like this is high school. Like spreading rumors and making fake texts to post online about a guy cheating on his wife is the same as saying 15 year old Jenny in English class is pregnant. You could fuck someone’s life up. Jenny can take a pregnancy test but Random Guy could have to upend his life because hey, maybe they were struggling but now they’re falling apart and their kids are crying.

At the end of the day, yeah, divorce can suck, but it’s a good thing, too. It doesn’t mean failure or freedom to me. It means a journey ended at a fork in the road. That doesn’t mean make your minds up about another persons relationship. That doesn’t mean throw a “dump him” at every bump in your friends relationship. It means it’s not always a tragedy, but a gift, so stop treating it like it’s some major moral failing when the reality is… We grow our whole lives and we can’t always force ourselves to grow in complimentary ways to our loved ones. Not even the ones we signed legal documents with.

[givemeanaccountalready]

This is dumb, and I don’t know why I feel the need to share this, but for some reason, I just cannot stop thinking of the first time I really advocated for myself against a position of authority and the pride I have for younger me for finally saying enough. Like I was a shy, anxious, people pleaser who avoided conflict like crazy, and I had a high school counselor tell me I was going to wreck my future by not picking up an elective, and in a moment of sleep-deprived clarity, I argued back.

Granted, this stream of consciousness was brought on by remembering childhood movies which led me to remembering childhood bullshit which then led to me remembering a post about how the great thing about being out of high school and an adult is that you can just leave social situations that you don’t want to be a part of and no one can force you to stay. You can just go, and it’s freeing.

I had a couple of classes in college where I literally looked at the syllabus, looked at the clock, looked back at the syllabus, and immediately after class ended, I dropped the course and replaced it with another one. There was one class in college back during the lockdown where I was like, ma’am, the government is still telling us to only leave the house for food and a walk around the park and you want me to find someone to shadow? And I dropped the class before the time ended.

I mean, I sent a boilerplate email stating that I was regretfully dropping their class because I couldn’t give it the dedication it deserves, but still. My one sister was in high school and her counselor gave her crap about wanting to switch an elective to a different one in the same period during the add/drop period because she “made a commitment.” Fuck you and your scary words, Mrs. Guidance Counselor.

We had the same guidance counselor which made me remember this moment. I was a senior in high school, with more than enough elective credits to graduate. I was an honor roll student throughout high school. I had passed 3 AP classes and their exams with flying colors. I was currently taking 3 AP classes, one of them was chemistry, and 2 honors classes. I had a CAD elective first period where I was supposed to learn how engineers design things or some shit like that. Somehow, the school didn’t give me a lunch period. I had to eat lunch in my one class where my teacher kindly allowed me to eat so long as I didn’t leave a mess. Now I’m tired, anxious, and don’t want to be in that elective class because I no longer wanted to study engineering and I was the only girl in a class of mostly 14-15 year old boys. Seniors, if they had first period free, could come in late. I took my ass down to the guidance counselor during a study hall to drop the class and sign up for late arrival.

The counselor proceeds to tell me that she will not let me drop the class because I clearly didn’t give this enough thought and she had plenty of kids with more pressing issues about their schedules (kids being put in the wrong level classes), can I wait one more week until things settle down? I say fine. I wait a week. I come back. She starts suggesting classes I can take to fill up that first period block. I ask for the late arrival. She asks me to think about it and give it a few days. I wait a couple days and come back with my drop slip. I am getting this goddamn late arrival.

She tells me that I’m not thinking about this clearly. I resist the urge to snap and tell her that I have given this serious thought. She says I have not. I point out that my course load is already heavy. She counters that the electives she offered to enroll me in are easy. And I get even more annoyed. I point out that outside of school, I play a team sport and work part time. I have enough on my plate. I need some R&R. She then proceeds to tell me that if I don’t take an elective, colleges will reject me and think I’m lazy.

I then proceed to tell her that if a college rejects me over a half credit elective course, then I want no part of that college anyway. I want my late arrival. I am getting this late arrival. I did not leave until she gave in. Late arrival gave me another 1-1.5 hrs of sleep that my poor soul needed desperately. It definitely kept me from killing my poor lab partner in AP Chemistry.

The joke is on her, because I proceeded to get my Bachelor’s of Science from a good university with “Magna Cum Laude” stamped in fancy script.

I honestly don’t know why there had to be so much back and forth. I hadn’t even had that much of a stubborn argument with my own parents. There’s not really a point to this story other than I’m proud of my younger self growing a spine and not just accepting what someone in charge told me as fact. I guess, maybe it doesn’t have to be a big thing for you to be proud over it. This was a really stupid game of chicken that I got into and won. And for that, I’m happy, because starting small makes it easier to take bigger steps.

[fatefulfaerie]

Music

Linktober 2022 prompt #30/31

Word Count: 881

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild AU (modern high school)

Trigger Warnings: None Applicable

“A level of emotional resonance unparalleled by any other high school production I’ve ever seen.”

The director beamed as he read the newspaper clipping with pride, in his students, in himself, but Link, Zelda, and Mipha sat in hidden shame. Their opening night would never be like that again.

You see, they weren’t acting in the slightest.

It all started during the first month of rehearsals. Superstar soprano Mipha was cast as Galinda and her tenor boyfriend, Link, was cast as Fiyero. A student that had only transferred to Hyrule High this semester was cast as Elphaba. Everyone doubted the decision and openly complained until she opened her mouth to sing “The Wizard and I”. What started as a private music rehearsal ended up with cast members and passing high school students alike crowding to get a glance at who the powerhouse voice belonged to. This was the first instance where Mipha saw Link starry-eyed. He never looked at her like that.

Mipha first voiced her concerns indirectly, stopping rehearsal without even thinking with a “Wait!”. They were in the middle of blocking “As Long As You’re Mine” and that meant Link and Zelda were about to practice the kiss. The director glared at Mipha in a “how dare you interrupt my rehearsal like this but also you’re a minor so I can’t really yell at you” way, and even she couldn’t give a good excuse, stammering.

“I,” she began. “I-I just thought it would be better if they waited…u-until the show. It would be more accurate to Elphaba and Fiyero finally getting their first kiss.”

It was bullshit reasoning for Mipha just wanting to hold off them kissing for as long as possible. Link furrowed his brow in confusion. Zelda panicked internally, knowing she had never kissed anyone before and very much needed the practice before doing it in front of people and making it believable. Mipha acted as if she completely meant to be smart about it when the director surprisingly agreed.

During the two months leading up to the show, Link was pulling farther and farther away from her. By the time her red hair was tucked securely into the iconic blonde wig and she adorned the sparkling gown, she suspected her boyfriend had feelings for another girl.

Zelda, Mipha had to admit, looked strikingly fantastic as Elphaba, her green eyes piercing even alongside the painted green skin and the black wig. Mipha saw her in the wing opposite her as she hugged her arms close, them both waiting to come out and show the director how they looked in their costumes, on stage, in the lights, and what needed to be changed about makeup or costuming or whatever. There was something wrong with the lights, so while the adult volunteers tried to figure out the problem, the two stood, Mipha hugging her arms close as Zelda had a conversation with the rigging guy about being flown in “Defying Gravity” and how that was going to work safely. Mipha was fine with that, it should be safe and surely she wanted no harm to come to Zelda. Mipha’s thoughts instead went to Link, how they had known each other since childhood, how the romance between them just kind of happened because their sets of parents expected it.

Was there ever really any real love involved?

“Don't wish, don't start,” she sang that night, meaning every word. The director in the first row of the crowded theater felt his eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise. “Wishing only wounds the heart”

“There's a girl I know,” she continued to sing. “He loves her so…I'm not that girl.”

The low G that she should have prided in the fact that it showed off her vocal range cascaded into “As Long As You're Mine” as she walked off stage, Link and Zelda coming on stage with held hands before sitting center stage and beginning the number.

It wasn’t the kiss at the end that made Mipha decide to finally let Link go. It was the way their hands found each other, hands that were not seen by the audience and never would be, hands that taught her everything she needed to know about love. She never had it and Link had found it. Who was she to stand in the way of it?

“I’m sorry,” Link said after the show when Mipha broached the subject. They were still both in their costumes except Link had shed the scarecrow appendages and had taken off half his makeup when she walked into the dressing room. She shook her head.

“Don’t be,” Mipha said. “I now have the chance to find love like yours.”

Link smiled at that and nodded. He gave his friend a hug, and once she left he rushed to Zelda’s dressing room. She had a whole team wiping off her green skin, carefully taking off her wig. She saw him in the reflection of the open doorway when one of the makeup artists said “you can open your eyes now”.

“Good job tonight, Link,” she said with a smile. “Are you ready to fall in love again tomorrow night?”

Link smiled with a laugh. His heart was free to be here in this moment without guilt weighing him down.

“Always,” he replied.

[weebsinstash]

Bully romances are an entirely different can of worms, I love hate-reading them. It’s so frustrating cause the FLs always think with their vaginas even when the guy is their fucking bully/abuser and 99% the dudes are like. Committing felonies against the FLs/other students. The classicism also, cause most of the time it’s always a poor FL getting a scholarship to attend this super rich exclusive academy and she’s treated like shit cause they din’t think she deserves to be there freeloading of the “paying students”.

The synopsis always say “they tried to break me but I’m already broken by my shitty life dancing as a stripper as a 15 year old to support myself after the tragic death of my parents, they don’t know who they’re messing with” or “I’m feisty. I’m defiant. I’m not submissive like everyone else and I’ll fight them” and the book is them being walked all over and doing exactly the opposite. Like I understand not standing up to your bully because you’re afraid and you’re in a position where you can’t do that but girl do you HAVE to suck his dick the first chance you get???? It also has the same issue of 18-year-olds being sex gods who are like. Fucking teachers and getting away with it because money.

Anyways once I read a book where the guys where some on “next leaders of the world” bullshit so their parents would abandon these children in forests and have them fend for themselves and also learn to kill people and fly helicopters I shit you not. Ngl the “rich yandere bullies you, poor scholarship student” actually kinda 😳 juicy with the drama and toxicity potential but those books are just SO BAD.

Part of me is like, i feel like some bully romances could work but, idk, it depends on what you're consuming a story for? Like how sometimes we read angst and stories that are sad and have no happy endings because that's a different form of entertainment and catharsis you know? But if you're writing a story where the bully is the LI then at some point you have to confront all the horrible things they did and make them have consequences, otherwise you just have rhe protagonist getting, basically worn down until they're succumb in my opinion? Like that's one thing that bugs me when the bully aspect is brought up in these werewolf stories because they'll literally use pack dynamics and the mate bond to like brainwash their lovers against their will. Like there was one story I never even posted about that I dropped very quickly because the plot was "girl with strong wolf literally gets drugged with pheromones to have sex with her notoriously mean Alpha mate, she really doesn't have a choice, he wears her down enough that she isn't resisting by the time he decides 'oh I won't mark you by force I want you to want me'" but like, I'm trying to remember all the heinous shit he did? She didn't want to have sex with him and he orders her on her hands and knees and literally puts pheromones inside of her so she's aroused enough for them to have sex like that's drugging and coercion and rape like he literally puts her in the dungeon for a time out "until she learns her place"? And HES THE ML???? IM SUPPOSED TO LOOK PASSED THAT? Sorry I don't care if he spends 20 years apologizing. What is this mindset that some horrible things can be undone, like sometimes the fact you did it in the first place is enough to warrant consequences

You're hitting the nail on the head with that synopsis description bc before I pick a story I usually read the description and my god are some of them baaaaaad, and no grammar sometimes too 🙄 what is the vetting process for some of these? Some concepts just sound so kooky and also as an adult it can be skeezy when a lot of these stories are like, talking about minors in high-school having sex? Like sometimes they emphasize werewolves are naturally beautiful and sometimes they'll just basically sleep around with humans just for some warm holes that adore them and theres some fucked up mentality in that.

(As a side note I just found another audiobook thats like appropriate length and it seems high production value and even like the skill of the author is standing out to me 😳 but. I think the protag is the man in the relationship and I prefer when it focuses on the ladies but, lmao I guess more werewolf drama posts coming soon? Wow they make this girl bathe in the river and use an outhouse and she's the previous Alpha's daughter and an Alpha herself :/)

Tbh now that I'm, you know, getting older and I'm 26 now I don't mind toooo much when the male love interests are young but like don't throw that "he's only 20 and he's the richest ceo in the entire world and he owns a private island factory and owns 50 Bugattis and his dick is 10 inches" shit at me ok, and he's 20 and to me that means he might as well be like 16. Give me a man in his 30s or 40s. Where are the silver foxes. Let me fuck someone's fit grandpa. Reinhardt from Overwatch can still get in these guts

But yeah I really need to actually back into my phone bookmarks and catch up on all my manhwa again because a lot of them were really cathartic in terms of getting revenge and also, I didn't have to pay by the chapter for those 😅

[thelostdisaster82]

If a man would live in a man who is in the military house with that man’s wife …that man’s thought to be kids as if it was somehow acceptable. Sneaking n lying to a innocent person who probably at one time was a really good person to find out not only his wife was cheating but the children he has begun to raise weren’t in fact even his! And wonder why on earth I would ever think u would do the same thing to me? Just bcuz I’ve raised ur children 12 doesn’t mean crap while she ran around popping kids out how many 14-16 now I lost count…..shooting up H and whatever else she could get her hands on…hasn’t been here one holiday or birthday or school activity for 12 years….yet do I believe u have her in my house..yes why? Bcuz I aim no one to u . Ur actions speak louder than any words could possibly say! U say u love me but I’m all reality u don’t…u just use me till there nothing more I can given I’ve bent over backwards to make these children good kids respectable adults and to keep u outta prison to make this house n everything in it home! But it hasn’t been home for year now. Random womens nasty crotches panties and stretched out bras I’ve continuously finding. Knowing they’re not mine or my girls ..hell not even his sister or moms….No one’s I even would know…but in my heart I know! What kind of person forgives a woman who walked away fm her kids to get high…while pregnant by the dealer baby still using…finally gets clean 6 months and went to prison should have came to look for her babies instead stacked her link card for 6 months to trade for some beans! Sickening honestly…how do u tell ur children they have 14-16 brothers n sisters out there all born addicted to H? How do u tell them that they were the lucky 3 that found a forever home and have always been loved! Somethings u just can’t say…i would have taken all of them thru Dcfs but u refused didn’t want to raise someone else’s kid…but how big of a good were u? No matter what they were part of ur kids..they were just babies…never asked to come into this world let alone addicted and unloved! i do not understand people let alone people like u….at one time I thought u we’re different u were wonderful but u r a spoiled selfish individual. 12 years of mental abuse …physical and just the tormented bullshit… to the point I got reactive abuse…fight or flight…I choose to fight bcuz I always have to defend myself with u. Physical goes away only hurts for a second but the mental…it lasts forever like a broken record on repeat. U start to doubt urself and if ur even good enough ..somedays I beg to go to bed n never wake up but others seem ok. The manipulation…I’m crazy I need medication I need mental help…after a while u start believing it….how can someone be like that to make people hate themselves. Tell me kids don’t want me here or I’m mean of I’m risk for kids to be around. In all reality…u r and she is! my reactions come from u…no one sees what u say only what I say or do…so then it looks like me. U put me here …all air out of my tires….not a dollar to my name. No family to call . No friends to call. I trust no one. My most meaningful conversations are with my dogs. U allow her to steal from me on a daily. U think I owe u something…yet u won’t tel me what. U forget my bday n holidays and for Mother’s Day while u forget me u remind me to get for the neighbor….my tire needed changed but was an inconvenience for u. The neighbor needed new tire not only did u give her mine u changed it from rim to rim to put on her suv. U open door for others while u slam doors on me. U throw my daughter hating me in my face bcuz I rises these three kids…everything I’ve ever told u ..u used against me. U sold my wedding ring for $20. Or was u the one who stole pawn receipt so u can get out n give to someone else? Why? From day one I did what u told me to help u get kids back and for years during winter I’d work two jobs to carry us cuz u were laid off. I’ve cooked cleaned done laundry took care of dogs and doctor’s appointments and parent teacher conferences. To be called names by ur mom

[ryuuseini]

I really need to get this off my chest I'm just... I keep being told "learn to love yourself!! You cant expect people to love you if you dont love yourself first!" And "what do you mean everyone leaves you like youre purposely ignoring all the stable relationships you've had just to play the victim" by my family and im fucking sick of it.

To the first point - there are times where people are so deep in their self loathing and hatred, been told again and again they are unworthy of love, that they need someone to lend a hand in teaching how to self love. Because not everyone can do so when the world around them is constantly saying otherwise.

And to their second point - fuck off. Yeah, maybe its not good that I'm grouping people who do care in the same category as the people who don't... but have you considered that like, shit like this is triggering? Having a friend who promised to be there for you legitimately ruining your life; having a friend who said she was your friend and wanted to hang out with you, but each time you made plans she canceled last minute because it was her sister's birthday that day or some shit (only to see she hangs out with everyone else just fine); a person who said that they'll be friends with you and when you're floored by the fact that they waited for you instead of heading straight to class after gym, said "of course, I said I was your friend and I meant it," only for them to randomly ghost you like barely a month after this interaction and just decide to act like you exist simply when they want to, which is never, and you're just wondering what the hell you did to cause that; to the nicest girl in your class telling you, straight up, "of course you don't deserve friends! You just transferred here senior year, we already have cliques and friends we trust, how do you expect to break that?"; to the person who told you that he'll show you you're worthy of being loved, only to proceed to blame you for all of his unexplainable anger; to the friends who you thought had your best interest but talked about you behind your back about how much they hated you, to the point they willingly harassed you because you decided to leave; to the friends that said they'll try to be your friend but got mad when you pointed out that they rejected every single attempt for you to get closer but kept saying "you can join this one server we have" despite me explicitly stating that I Did Not Feel Safe There because someone who had harassed and stalked me was still in that server and there were zero protections offered for me to even feel safe in such an environment, only for them to decide a person who was suffering from such pain deserved no friends and got all of our shared friends to leave me, despite this being a private personal issue between me and them that I handled privately; to being blamed for a grown man's potential heart attack and that being JUSTIFIED by others while you're still a minor; to just... so many other bullshits I genuinely cannot describe, each happening within the relatively short time span of 5 years. Don't you think??? Don't you just think for a second??? That my brain is conditioned to think this way??? And being told "stop trying to play the fucking victim and realize the friends you DO have" is just ignoring the fact that I literally cannot because the pain is far stronger in my mind than the opposite? But you do nothing but help, so whatever.

And then I remember my first high-school. How I was gaslit, not only by my bully... But by the adults who were supposed to help me as well. I didn't feel safe attending any clubs, and the one club I did attend because he wasn't there... most of the people made fun of me anyway, there was no point. He was in every club with me, and instead of working out a thing so I - the kid who frequently felt isolated - could have a chance to socialize, I simply was expected to just not participate. I was suicide baited the day before a huge school trip by a friend of my bully under my bully's name, and when I went to tell the teacher hey, this happened, can you make sure I'm not paired up with this student who was also going to the trip, my bully stuck around to hear that, only to corner me at my locker to lie to me that he did care I got suicide baited (despite the fact I had texts stating that he only cared if the girl who had sent the texts under his name was going to get in trouble, and not the fact that I had been told my life was essentially meaningless) and had a girl who wasn't involved in the situation, who I thought was my friend, back him up and agree with all his points until I cried that I wanted to die and he should just kill me. The trip got canceled for me, but he was still allowed to go on it. We shared classes together and they were working to take me out of my classes to make my health better. One of these classes was my favorite class - the class where the teacher treated me like an actual fucking human being, the class I felt the safest in, the class I would hide in even when the teacher was teaching a different class because I felt fucking safe, the class that I wasn't put in initially for some reason but fought to be in - and they simply chose to take me out of the class instead of punishing him. How the head guidance counselor, to my face, told me "how can you say your bully isn't a friend of yours? He took the time to skip a class because he was concerned about you, how is that NOT something a friend would do?" And how, when I simply couldn't take the abuse anymore, they kicked me out of the school, forcing me to go elsewhere, where I did. And I didn't make any lasting friends and people ignored me 90% of the time, and at that 10% they cared I felt like... I had to pretend that they didn't fucking ghost me 9/10 times... Only for that school to fucking shut down at the end of my junior year, forcing me to go to another high-school my senior year, where I really had no one... Because that girl was right. Everyone already had their friend groups... I couldn't be expected to break that.

I'm just... I'm just not okay.

[anxiousxdreamer]

a long rambly-bullshit middle-of-the-night thinking about myself thing

it's 1am this is not put together intelligently i am simply Typing Thoughts

there is a little girl in my past that was so vibrant and loud and who loved and laughed and played and was so DETERMINED to be proud of being weird. She wrestled with her dad, sang with her mom, and fought with her oldest sister every five minutes. She got FURIOUS whenever people were "rude" about her middle sister.

I think about her and see color and joy and confidence, and I wonder where the hell it all went. I mean, not ALL of it, I see some of the building blocks of how I am now, but it's like at some point I tripped into a hole and never really recovered.

I used to wrestle with my dad. Me and Oldest Sister both. It was fun, it was silly, it was innocent. Now I have to tamp down disgust just at like, his hand on my shoulder, let alone a hug. I thought for so long that I was just developing some weird back-specific aversion to touch. Turns out I just need to feel fucking safe about whoever is doing the touching. Not even my ex, who for the longest time I thought I trusted, could touch my back very much. Living with my partner now has me realizing maybe I really, really did not trust ex.

I used to sing with my mom. She used to sing a lot. To wake me up, to put me to sleep, just along with her CDs, in church, in a different choir-thing, anything. That... changed. Obviously at some point she stopped putting me to bed and waking me up of course, but like... that kinda disappeared for a while. Especially after my grandparents died. I know, she was depressed, that's why, and she's definitely doing better these days (still has depression but yknow) and I'm not around her nearly as much (adulthood lmao) but I still miss her singing. Not enough to step foot in a church tho XD

I used to fight with my oldest sister all the damn time. Over any damn thing. I thought she was "trying to be mom", she thought I was being annoying and obstinate on purpose just to ruin her day. I understand, these days, how a 12 year old might find a 6 year old UNBEARABLE to be around. I even worked up the courage to tell her as adults that I... feel like she hated me. She says she didn't, and I don't consider my sister a liar at all. I still don't believe her. I mean, I do, but I don't. I try to compartmentalize it. At 12 she may have SAID she hated me and meant it, while really not meaning it at all and really she just wants a moments fucking peace lmao. I don't remember her ever saying she hated me. And yet I feel it. I DEFINITELY remember her calling me annoying though, in a conversation with my grandma where grandma called me a brat. Thinking about that it's possible she didn't mean that in a nasty way, (sometimes people just call kids "brats" as if it's just a casual synonym), but I'll never know now. I doubt my sister remembers, and my grandma's dead.

I just kinda internalized that I am very hateable.

I've always been the "justice department" in my family. My father absolutely fucking hates it, as far as I'm concerned, given his need to comment on it every time I bring up something wrong about the world or like even just talking about a fact I know like "this thing has racist origins." All this is to say that when I was a kid I got VERY upset when people very obviously othered my middle sister. At the time I called it rude, nowadays I'd call it usually abelism with the occasional "that five year old has clearly never seen a wheelchair before but that's not their fault." Being also five just meant I didn't realize not every kid has been around a disabled person since they were born lmao

I don't really remember a lot of the space of my life between being maybe-six and high school. I remember discovering Bakugan, Phoenix Wright, and the Nancy Drew games on youtube and having something I loved that I could engage with all by myself. I was in cyber school in middle school, and only homeschooled before that. Somehow I had become a much angrier kid, but I was really happy to watch Yugioh (and have my first experiences with fanfiction because of that one in particular). I wrote a fanfic of Shugo Chara for a 7th grade short story assignment. The only critique I remember was the teacher pointed out "hey, why is the dad suddenly approving? maybe you could add something to show why he changed his mind." To me, it was obvious, Main Character I Don't Remember The Name Of proved she was GOOD at singing and he decided it wasn't stupid anymore. He decided her passion wasn't worthless because she proved she was good at it. I definitely see now how that was not obvious, and it could have easily been fixed by even just a line of dialogue from him (it was 7th grade I won't pretend like it would have made it GOOD).

I spent SO MUCH time in my room. At some point I stopped really having friends to just... isolate in my room and obsess over shows and anime and lets plays. I HAD friends before, I went to a homeschool co-op and had a best friend and was friendly with some other kids, but once I switched to cyber school and stopped going I just... stopped talking to them much. I started to get really annoyed by even my best friend and just kinda dropped her. I've been beating myself up since I was like 16 for being such an asshole for doing that, but now I'm starting to wonder if I was just fucking depressed. Every time I lose touch with a friend, I remember deciding not to talk to Liz anymore and think I'm just repeating an awful piece-of-shit cycle. Obviously I'm a horrible person who doesn't actually care about his friends because I out...grew someone who... was my best friend when we were kids. Huh yknow I think I just made a connection to something in a show I'm not going to name ajfhajsklgsdj

Anyway,

i'm tapped out on fuckignnnn thinking goodnight

[zephfair]

Helloooo!!! I love your fics. Idk why but I would love to read a haunted house pynch version of you haha :D I mean, if you ever need some ideas and feel inclined to write that... I would be super happy!! But obviously it is just an idea, I dont mean to say you have to write anything I say :) I just love how you write pynch, your humour, and generally your fics. And I have been craving a haunted house fic :D Anyway, all the best!!

AAAh, thank you so much! You are way too kind to me!😭 I'm sorry it took me a while to write this, and it's pre-pynch, but I hope you like it! Please let me know if this hit your craving for a haunted house fic!💖💖💖

Rated T for language, I think the only other warning is talking about standard haunted house stuff.

This could take place in canon, soon before The Raven King and definitely before Ronan's birthday and the 😘

“I’m just saying,” Ronan said for at least the fourth time in an hour, “why do you want to go to a stupid haunted house when you live with a fucking ghost?”

“That’s a good question,” Noah suddenly appeared right at his shoulder, and Ronan jumped straight into the air and grabbed his chest.

“Holy Christ, you little shit!” he yelled in a very manly voice, certainly not a screech.

“Sorry,” Noah said, sounding not sorry at all. “Did I scare you?”

Ronan swore again. “I think you gave me a heart attack.”

“I don’t know, Lynch, you might not be fit to even go into this haunted house,” Adam said.

“If you’re uncomfortable, Ronan,” Gansey began but Ronan cut off that bullshit real quick.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he sneered. “And I’m not not fit,” he said with some confusion but then he found his stride. “I’m just saying that haunted houses suck, especially when you’ve seen some of the shit we’ve seen. Why should I have to pay for someone else to try and fail to scare me?”

“In other words, you’ve dreamed up unworldly, eldritch abominations that were out to kill you...and now you’re afraid to go into a haunted house created by Henrietta high kids,” Adam spelled it out.

Ronan bristled immediately, somehow looking just like Chainsaw when she fluffed herself out in defense. “I’m not afraid!”

“Does this have something to do with your religion?” Gansey worried at his lip and eyed Ronan carefully. “I know some religions forbid celebrating anything that reeks of a pagan ceremony. Although, the origins of Halloween are—”

“I don’t have anything against Halloween,” Ronan grit out. “In fact, let’s go trick or treating right the fuck now. I’m just saying that haunted houses … are stupid,” he finished weakly.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s go, Gansey,” Adam said, already turning away from the car.

“I just thought it would be a fun evening together. Parrish has the night off, and Jane told us about this project that her school does to raise funds for local children.”

“Oh, so that’s why you wanted to come. What, is she going to swoon into your arms in fright, the damsel in distress you can save?” Ronan said with as much sarcasm as he could slather on it.

Gansey froze him with a Look. “Jane is actually working tonight. I thought this would be a boys-night only activity.”

Ronan snorted and looked away. The haunted house was in an old faux-Victorian house on the outskirts of town. Ronan had heard about it before, that the high school theater kids manned the event with a lot of adult supervision to raise money for boys and girls clubs. It definitely wasn’t a high tech or expensive endeavor, but Ronan didn’t like the way his stomach clenched when he looked at the covered windows that were flashing from bright lights inside.

Adam sighed loudly. “Come on, if you’re coming, Lynch. I don’t want to spend my one night off just standing in a parking lot.”

Ronan told him what he could do to himself instead. Adam just glared, unimpressed by the vulgarity.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Gansey said, clearly uncomfortable by their attitudes.

“No! Go in! It’ll be fun,” Noah said and nudged Ronan in the ribs, making him shiver. “Do you want me to come with to protect you?”

Ronan shivered again. “I’m more likely to have a heart attack if you keep blowing your coldass ghost breath in my ear.”

“Come on, Lynch,” Adam said again but then he smirked. “I’ll even hold your hand, if it makes you feel better.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Ronan grumbled but slowly and very reluctantly got out of the car. Gansey smiled beatifically and led the way toward the entrance while Ronan followed even more slowly. He didn’t want to admit that holding Adam’s hand probably would make him feel better.

The line to get in moved more quickly than Ronan would’ve liked, and the screams and loud noises audible from inside were more disturbing that he would’ve liked too. They finally entered a sort of lean-to that had been built around the exterior entrance to the house’s basement.

There, a bubbly high school girl briefly spelled out the rules (no alcohol, no drugs, no guns, no knives, no violence) and warned them to stay together in the groups she made and not deviate from the marked path. They would start in the basement, working their way up through the horrors of the house until the grand finale on the third floor after which they got to take an inflatable slide to the ground again.

That was the only part Ronan looked forward to.

Then she said, “If you’re with a friend who you think might have a violent or extreme reaction to a jump scare, we ask that you please help restrain them. We value the safety of our performers. Maybe hold hands so your group doesn’t get separated and you all stay together.”

Gansey and Adam shared a Look then each grabbed one of Ronan’s arms—Gansey clutching his right bicep tightly, Adam latching onto Ronan’s left forearm. “Oh fuck you guys,” he hissed.

“We never know how our fight or flight reactions will react until they’re triggered,” Gansey hissed back.

But Ronan did know. He knew the reactions to stress were fight, flight, or freeze. And he’d seen Gansey face enough potential wasp and bee catastrophes to know that he was firmly in the freeze category. And Adam had never once fought back or fled from his father so he was another freezer.

While Ronan, well, he knew that he’d be the first to flee, if that was a choice. Sure, he might throw a punch to gain some time, but if he was alone and not having to protect his loved ones, he’d be away.

So he wasn’t amused that his friends felt the need to restrain him. But his bitterness eased a little when they moved to go down the basement steps, and Adam’s hand slid down his arm to take his hand. Gansey had done the same, casually holding onto his hand like he would a child waiting to cross the street. But Adam, he slid their hands together then entwined their fingers until his bony thumb caressed over the top of Ronan’s.

Ronan gulped and was thankful that the dark hid his burning cheeks and the loud sound effects covered his little whimper.

The first basement room wasn’t that bad as a recreation of a witch’s lair. It was dark with strategic red and purple lights on different scary looking implements. Ronan mumbled, “Satanic magic bullshit,” when a loud witch’s cackle rolled through the room and the witch popped up right in front of them.

Gansey yelled and stepped back right onto Ronan’s foot, which made him yell and swear and jerk back into Adam, which made him yell and squeeze Ronan’s hand so tightly he yelled again.

At least, that’s what they all agreed to afterward.

As the witch’s cackle continued, Gansey hurried them toward the door. “Well, that wasn’t frightening at all,” he shouted over his shoulder. Ronan didn’t answer, too busy brushing fake cobwebs off his head and out of his mouth. That was the problem with letting shorter Gansey go first—it left all the higher decorations smacking Ronan in the face and head.

Adam snickered against his back until Ronan purposely ducked so Adam got a faceful of sticky spiderweb and spit it out with a yuck.

The second room was a graveyard with fake tomb stones and several plastic skeletons that dropped from the ceiling. It was too loud to talk, with recorded screams and other so-called scary noises coming at irregular intervals.

Ronan was starting to feel a little like a stress ball, Gansey first pulling him along then stopping abruptly at a jump scare while squeezing his hand. From behind him, Adam alternately held back, straining Ronan’s arm then crowded tight against his back. Ronan wasn’t about to complain about that. He just tried to balance between the two and shut his eyes at times to keep the flashing lights from giving him a worse headache.

After the last zombie had popped up from a gravestone and menaced them, Gansey spotted the stairs and started pulling them along.

“Holy fuck, this fucking noise,” Ronan ground out, shaking his head.

He didn’t know how Adam even heard him over the growing din from the next room, but he must have. Adam pressed up against his side and breathed hotly in his ear, “How can you complain about this noise when I’ve heard the so-called music you listen to?”

“Oh fuck you,” Ronan said right as a man wearing a leather mask brandished a chainsaw at them. They all obligingly screamed and Ronan felt torn apart again as the other two jostled him in different directions.

Eventually they all got going the same way, headed down a very narrow corridor that apparently wound in a maze through the ground floor. There were scary mirrors, scary zombies, scary clowns, scary fake tarantulas and snakes, whatever was a common fear was represented somewhere.

Ronan was almost getting used to it by the second floor. The horribly loud noises were off-putting, and the flashing lights with alternating pitch-black darkness were jarring, but the jump-scares were actually tame in comparison to the stuff they’d seen.

Even Adam seemed like he was relaxing, and Ronan thought he heard Adam laugh with his forehead pressed against Ronan’s shoulder blade when Gansey got a fake snake around the neck and shrieked doing a little get-it-off-me dance.

Until they got to the stairway to the top floor. There was thick fog floating down, and blue UV lights that made white glow but left everything else in darkness. Gansey squeezed Ronan’s hand and glanced back over his shoulder. “Excelsior!” he cried and started up the stairs.

“Fuck this,” Ronan yelled back and Adam clenched his hand in agreement.

The noises had redoubled, this time combined with a pounding bass beat that was more similar to Ronan’s music than he’d admit but what also sounded like the house had a very arrhythmic, racing heartbeat. It was dark and thick with fog, only the UV light strobing occasionally.

Ronan had to admit it was unnerving. There were definitely people there, just out of reach, but the strobing light made their motion unnatural, unearthly, and only lit parts of their outfits so they flitted from place to place. Ronan couldn’t even push them away as they came closer, circling the group of three.

Then all the lights went out and something collided hard with Ronan’s right arm. He clutched Gansey’s hand even harder and yelled. Gansey had stopped so Ronan took a step closer and whatever hit him didn’t try again.

But the movement had taken him further from Adam and when something rammed into their hands, he felt Adam’s fingers slipping. Ronan was off balance and tried to turn back to move closer to where Adam should be, but something that felt like a human body fell heavily where they were linked, and Adam’s hand disappeared.

“Adam,” Ronan screamed as loudly as he could, wildly reaching, swinging his arm in every direction feeling for Adam.

“Lynch, come on,” Gansey pulled him in the opposite direction in the darkness, but Ronan was turned around in the blackness and kept reaching for where he thought Adam should be.

When he felt his hand brush soft material, he thanked God, almost sobbing, and fisted his hand in Adam’s shirt. Ronan pulled with all his strength, and Adam moved willingly toward him even as Gansey continued to pull him away.

But it was okay, he had a handful of Adam and he was never letting go again. The darkness pressed in on him, he gasped for breath, the fake fog choking him, and his hand sweated in the cotton of Adam’s shirt, his arm wrenched behind him painfully to keep clinging to Adam.

He didn’t understand why Adam let himself be pulled along, it couldn’t be comfortable, why didn’t Adam take his hand again.

Then he looked back right as the black light strobed. And he knew why Adam didn’t respond.

It wasn’t Adam he was clutching.

It was some kind of evil, possessed, Victorian doll but child-sized, in a torn frilly dress, its face a gaping maw of a black mouth and gaping black holes where the eyes should be.

Ronan screamed. He couldn’t even let go of the tight grasp he had on the doll’s sleeve—he just froze and screamed.

When the doll stepped closer right as the light went off, Ronan tore free from Gansey and ran.

Right into a wall that knocked him right onto his ass.

At least it made him stop screaming. He sat on the floor, shaking, rubbing the growing bump on his forehead until the light flashed on again.

And the doll was standing right above him.

He screamed again then saw another shirt glowing behind the doll. A familiar hand landed on the doll’s shoulder and pulled it back.

“I think you’ve scared him enough, Blue,” Adam said.

**********

Ronan sat on the curb down the street from the haunted house and gasped for air. His head hung between his knees which were currently somewhere up around his ears. He hadn’t passed out, exactly, but things had gone black around the edges and he didn’t really remember getting out of the building.

Apparently, Gansey had joined them and between the three of them, they got Ronan onto the slide that took them down to the parking lot. There a volunteer medic had examined Ronan’s forehead, offered him a bandaid, and told him to sit down for a while.

“Here, Lynch,” Adam said, and a sweating bottle of water was pushed into his face.

Ronan took it gratefully, sitting up enough to twist it open and take a long drink. It helped a little, or at least, helped calm his hyperventilating while he chugged and swallowed.

He wiped his mouth with his forearm and shivered. He still couldn’t look Adam in the eyes. “I’m sorry I ruined your one night out or whatever,” he muttered.

Adam sighed and sat down beside him, close enough that his shoulder and arm were solidly pressing against Ronan’s. It made Ronan feel grounded in a way he didn’t realize he was missing.

“You didn’t ruin my night,” Adam said, nudging him a little in the ribs. “It wasn’t my idea to come to this.”

“Yeah, but you were looking forward to it, and then I went and ruined it.”

“First, you didn’t ruin anything. And second, I was just looking forward to being with you. And Gansey,” he added a beat later.

“So you guys weren’t planning this all along?” Ronan had to ask, had to voice his growing fear that somehow they’d all conspired to laugh at him.

“Hell no,” Adam said and pulled away.

Ronan shut his eyes. Of course he had to go and piss off Adam. Way to go, Ronan.

“Lynch. Ronan, look at me.” But Adam had only withdrawn far enough so he could turn to face Ronan. He put his hands on Ronan’s shoulders and tried to turn him a little too.

Ronan finally opened his eyes to see Adam leaning very close but he hung his head again. “Do you really think we would do something to hurt you? You know Gansey loves you like a brother, and Blue loves you like a menace, and I … well, we wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

“I didn’t want to come.”

“We shouldn’t have made you, whatever your reason for not wanting to come. It was a pretty lame haunted house, anyway. And now I’ve got a splitting headache from the noises.”

“Oh shit,” Ronan’s head jerked up. “I didn’t even think about that. God, that must have been torture with your ear. Can I do anything for you?”

Adam looked at him with an expression Ronan couldn’t decipher. Finally he said, “Give me a drink?”

Ronan passed over the water bottle and watched Adam’s throat move as he drank the rest of it. He was trying not to think about swapping spit and backwash with Adam when it hit him.

“Did you actually buy me a bottle of water?” Ronan demanded. “Lemme pay you back.”

“It’s okay, Lynch,” Adam put the cap back on the empty bottle. “My treat.”

“No, that’s not right. I owe you—”

“Ronan. It’s fine. I can afford to get you a water.” Adam stretched out, leaning back on his elbows and looking way more casual than Ronan felt at the moment.

“Well, then I’ll pay you back.”

“Maybe you can buy me a burger. For lunch tomorrow?”

“That’d be awesome. Yeah. Sure.” The words tumbled out of Ronan, and Adam grinned up at him.

Ronan grinned back then hung his head again. “I just can’t believe this was such a clusterfuck. Dick is going to kill me if I ruined his night too.”

“You wanna talk about why you didn’t want to come in the first place?”

“The fuck would I want to talk about?” Ronan muttered and Adam didn’t answer. They sat in silence for a moment until he said, “I just don’t like shit like that.”

“Halloween shit? Haunted shit? Badly performed high school productions?”

Ronan smirked in gratitude at Adam’s casual snark. “Just...shit that only pretends to be scary. Like, one part of your mind is trying to fool the rest into thinking it’s reality just so it can pretend to be scared and get all that adrenaline and shit. It’s like a big con of yourself.”

“Like a lie?”

“Yeah, exactly. I get enough of that in dreams, only in my dreams, what my mind might manifest will actually kill me. If I thought up a creepy haunted doll, that thing is going to murder everyone I love. This,” he gestured back at the house, “This is just weird. I don’t get why people want to pay to put themselves in a fake situation that they know isn’t real just to feel real fear.”

Adam crinkled the water bottle until Ronan looked over at him. “I get it. I think. It’s about vulnerability and control. In your dreams, reality is terrifying and surreal and you might have to run for your life. Or come up with a way to stop the creepy haunted doll. But it’s you doing it. You have the choice to run or fight for your life, so you’re ultimately in control of what happens.”

“Yes,” Ronan said, grateful that somehow he got it. “I’m not chained down and forced to see and do things I don’t want to do. I’m in charge.”

Adam nodded slowly and nudged him. “So no more haunted houses. How do you feel about roller coasters?”

“My driving is the best answer to anyone who wants to ride an artificial scary ride,” Ronan boasted, mostly to make Adam laugh, which he did. Then Adam nudged into his side and they stayed there in companionable silence until Gansey and Blue stood over them.

“Here, Ronan. They say sugar is good for shock, so we got you some hot chocolate,” Gansey held the cup down to him.

Ronan glanced over at Adam who shrugged. “Fine,” he grumbled and accepted the cup.

“I had no idea it would happen like that, Ronan,” Blue said.

Ronan shrugged and swirled the lukewarm hot chocolate.

“I must say, I was mightily surprised to see you there, Jane. After you said you couldn’t make it,” Gansey said cheerily.

“I talked to one of the girls I know in the theater club, and she helped me out with a costume. They sneaked me in to the top floor where I just kind of hung out until they signaled you were coming up.”

Ronan looked up at Blue who looked much less diabolical under the ordinary street light. Her dress and wig were obviously threadbare and worn, and the makeup that had transformed her face into a waking nightmare looked just dark and odd without the UV light.

She shrugged sheepishly under Ronan’s glare. “I didn’t plan it to happen like that. We were going to separate you and Gansey so I’d be holding his hand when he looked back and freaked out. But when I Red Rovered you two, I couldn’t separate you.”

“Red Rovered?” Gansey interrupted.

“You know, that kids’ game? When you hold hands in a line and another kid runs at your arms to try and break you apart?”

Gansey shook his head, never having partaken in the games of ordinary schoolchildren.

“Anyway,” Blue continued, “you and Gansey were, like, glued together so I tried you and Adam instead, and that worked. Two of the other girls had to grab Adam to hold him back while I got in his place.”

They all looked over at Adam. “All I felt was someone run into me and Ronan’s hands until I couldn’t hold on anymore. When I tried to grab him again, people were holding my arms. I thought it was part of the performance until the light came on and I recognized you. And what you were doing to Ronan.”

“I didn’t mean to do anything to Ronan!” Blue insisted. “I’m sorry it freaked you out so bad; I didn’t know that would happen. I just wanted to scare Gansey.”

“It’s okay, Sargent,” Ronan said, proud that his voice was now steady. “It totally freaked me out. Your makeup is badass. You looked like a crazyass doll possessed by the devil.”

Blue smiled proudly and held out her fist. Ronan bumped it with his own. He felt Adam take a deep breath beside him and let it out in relief. Ronan bumped his shoulder into Adam’s.

“Well, I don’t know how I feel about you going to all that trouble just to frighten me,” Gansey said with a little pout.

“Drink your hot chocolate, Gansey,” Adam said and Gansey obeyed.

“So what now? Are you guys ready to grab something to eat?” he said after a long sip. “I feel like burgers.”

“Nah,” Ronan said. “I don’t want a burger tonight. Maybe tomorrow,” he glanced at Adam out of the corner of his eye, “but not now.”

“Who said you get to pick?” Blue asked.

Ronan pointed to his forehead. “I’m the one who got injured. I should get to pick.”

“That sub place out in the strip mall is doing a buy one-get one special,” Adam said.

“Perfect,” Ronan said and Blue nodded. She held out her hand which confused Ronan at first, but then he realized what she was offering. He took her hand for show but got himself to his feet then reached down and ruffled her hair. “Wear that get-up into the sub shop and they might run out screaming so we could get free food.”

She laughed, and Ronan knew they’d be okay. He turned to see Adam smiling up at the two of them so he stuck out his hand. Adam laughed and took it, letting Ronan bear some of his weight. Ronan made a big deal out of pulling him harder and closer than necessary.

“Do I get to hold your hand again too, Ronan?” Gansey’s voice broke Ronan out of his reverie.

Ronan let go of Adam and turned to Gansey. “Any time you want, Dick, any time. Even though you did leave me to the mercies of the evil doll. And you let me run into a wall.”

“Well, next time, I won’t let go,” Gansey promised with a sincerity that made Ronan a little embarrassed.

“Wow, Dick, that’s really romantic,” he sneered, to make all of them roll their eyes and say his name in various tones of frustration.

Then he slung his arm over Gansey’s shoulder and started off toward the Pig, calling behind him, “C’mon you two. Parrish, bring the doll so Gansey can play with her later.”

Then Gansey sputtered and Blue started yelling again, and Ronan felt like they were back to normal. As long as he never, ever had to go into another haunted house again.

[majorblinks]

for all the right reasons ((g)i-dle miyeon)

(smut, former teacher/student, public sex, facefucking, breeding kink, brief mention of blood, age gap [both consenting adults though obviously], fluff? lmfao there are feelings involved, 12k words)

Oh, it’s probably morally reprehensible, or whatever. She’s too young. She’s your student - or she was, once, and that should be enough for you to never, ever lay a hand on her, for you to file away those Bambi eyes and all that blonde hair and every soft, delicate curve of her body in a folder labeled one-way ticket to hell - that’s what it should be, but-

“You want me,” Miyeon says, the first day you two ever start. She’s smiling like the princess everyone thinks she is. “I think you’re gonna, like, die if you don’t touch me.”

She’s evil for saying it, but you’re evil, too, because she just happens to be right.

-

It’s a fluke, or something of the sort. Fate hates you, or some other bullshit. You’re in a bar on a weekday, and you’re not looking for company - just a little reprieve. You’re a high school language teacher and you write, sometimes. You’re here for some inspiration.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to find it: twenty minutes, thirty. You’re sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, and like something choreographed from a movie scene, she walks right in.

You don’t realize who she is at first, obviously. You hear the footfalls of heels, see the swing of long hair - you’re not about to dwell on it, but she sits down right next to you, and - yep, you’re dwelling. You hear the sweet voice as she talks to the bartender, see the dainty, graceful way she moves. She’ll be your muse for the night, you decide. You tilt your head, and you drink her in instead of your whiskey.

See, she’s perfect, from the jump; that’s where it all goes wrong. She’s the kind of girl people write songs about - sonnets, scriptures - and it’s all downhill from there.

Your gaze starts at her shoes first, and that’s the first mistake - they’re ridiculous, black and patterned with butterflies, a thick, platform heel; oh, it’s a fairy, a manic pixie dream girl come to life, you can work with that - and you find the second mistake as your eyes trail up: white thigh-high stockings, lace at the top, delicate and pretty against slender, creamy thighs - a fairy and a wet dream walking, that’s a killer combination. The third’s as you reach the blue dress, patterned with white flowers: the tiny waist to go with it, the halter neckline and the sharp collarbone, and all this silky, wavy ash-blonde hair, and then-

That fourth mistake, the nail in the coffin. You look at her face and your voice gets promptly stuck in your throat.

Cho Miyeon’s been watching you watch her, and she must see the exact moment you recognize who she is, what you’ve done, because when you meet her eyes, horrified, she’s smiling.

“Oh, hey,” she says, all too casual.

“Hi,” you say, and she crosses one leg over the other in those fucking thigh-highs. You don’t look. You can’t. “Miyeon. Hi.”

Miyeon tilts her head, and that curtain of blonde hair tumbles with her - she’s blonde now, and it’s such a good look on her, and you shouldn’t be noticing how good she looks - and says, “You remember me.”

She doesn’t seem like she’s really surprised. “Of course,” you say, and immediately realize how it sounds. “I mean - it wasn’t that long ago, was it? And you were always an excellent student. A - a real joy to have in class. You know.”

You’re just saying it because you don’t know what else to say - but it’s not like it’s untrue. Every memory you have of Cho Miyeon in your class is her sitting off to the right, by the window, dark-haired and with this air of benevolent elegance, something of teenage royalty. All her classmates called her a princess - you remember that. An inside joke; here's Princess Miyeon, acing the test again, asking all the right questions, helping everyone with their assignments. It was fitting enough for you to let it slide.

Now here she is, in front of you, suiting the title more than ever. She’s so beautiful - and that’s where you stop yourself, because - really, it hasn’t been that long since she was that brunette girl in your classroom. Less than five years, certainly. Or more? Fuck, time, teaching; it all gets away from you, and she’s wearing those stockings-

Miyeon’s smile slants, turns to something more mischievous.

“I know,” she says, and it sort of feels like she’s making fun of you. Well, she’d have the right. You sound like an idiot. Just because you were her language teacher doesn’t mean you’re anywhere near eloquent. “Thanks. For the record, you were always my favorite teacher, sir.”

There’s a spin she puts on the last word - or maybe you’re imagining it. She blinks at you, sweet-faced, all doe-eyed innocence. You’re imagining it. You have to be.

“Oh,” you say, and your voice comes out odd, thick. “Well, you don’t have to call me sir anymore. It’s not like I’m still your teacher.”

“Right,” says Miyeon, eyes twinkling. “But you still are a teacher, aren’t you?”

You stare, puzzled, still thrown by her very presence. “What?”

She asks again, patiently, and you give her the answer - yes - and then out of nowhere she’s managed to coax you deeper into conversation - do you like it, what’s the best part, what’s the worst, what else are you up to - and it’s a foregone conclusion. Someone gets her a drink and she gets chattier when she’s tipsy, still sweet and friendly and gorgeous, cheeks flushing in the dim light. She talks about herself, a little - she’s in college, she’s thinking of taking a trip, she’s single. You don’t remember how you landed on that last one but once it’s out there it’s basically all over, from there.

It definitely crosses a line, between former teacher and student. It’s somewhere in there. She nudges your arm when you make her laugh, then grips it loosely when you add something that makes her laugh harder. Her hair falls in her face and you don’t push it back for her but she looks at you like she knows you want to. You forget things like she’s so much younger than you and you aren’t allowed to stare at her thighs in her stockings and wonder if her underwear matches.

She’s a perfect conversationalist like she might’ve been trained in the art form; that’s how she gets you, reels you in. She’s clever without being cutting, witty without being condescending. Princess, indeed - it’s the kindness, it’s the bright eyes and the lace. No - not the lace. You should really stop thinking about the lace-

“Hey,” Miyeon murmurs. Neither of you are fully drunk, but you’re playing into it, pretending like that’s the reason you’re crossing boundaries. Miyeon’s playing with the cuff of your sleeve. One of her ridiculous boots is balanced on the rung of your stool, brushing your ankle. “We should go to the bathroom, or something.”

She flicks her eyes up at you through her lashes, and there’s a curl to her mouth.

“Miyeon,” you say, acting like the room didn’t just get ten degrees hotter, your pants ten times more uncomfortable.

“You were wrong, before.” She leans in close, and you inhale her perfume - something sugary, intoxicating. Her lips are wet from where she’s been biting them. These are things you aren’t supposed to notice, but rules and regulations are long gone by now. “It’s been forever since you were my teacher.”

“Watch it,” you warn her, kind of sharply.

It’s a mistake, being firm with her - her eyebrows lift with clear interest. “Yes, sir,” she says, somehow self-satisfied, and leans back; it’s not far enough, and you can still smell her, can still see the pleased glint hidden in her irises.

“Miyeon.” Your throat dries up.

“Oh, come on,” she says mildly, and brushes her hands over the lace decorating her thighs. “We’re both adults now. You’re not even that much older than me. Ten years at most. Less than that, probably.” You’re staring at her stockings again and she notices. “Plus,” she continues, humor lilting her tone, “You want me.”

You can’t take her eyes off her thighs, can’t stop thinking about shoving up her dress and bending her right over the bar, can’t stop fantasizing about the faces she’d make as you fuck her, the noises, the slick sounds of her pussy. You can’t admit it, because it’d be fucked up. You can’t deny it, because you want her too bad to lie. You don’t know how you got here so fast, and-

Miyeon’s grinning like she can read your mind, and she’s close again, fingers skimming down your shirt.

“I think you’re gonna, like, die if you don’t touch me,” she says, conversationally.

She’s got it right on the money. You can’t say anything, and all of a sudden both of your hands have found the curve of her waist, and she’s out of her seat, standing between your legs. She’s an angel you’d give your whole life to worship, her blonde hair, her eyes, her body - she’s a dream, and she’s leaning in further, breath hot as she whispers in your ear.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Miyeon says, lowly, and the airiness in her voice goes straight to your dick. “The feeling’s very mutual.” You can almost hear the smirk in her words, something fanged and predatory. You might have to rethink her divinity. “You wouldn’t fucking believe how wet I am right now.”

Oh, that’s it. There are no angels in the room, here - the devil’s clever like that, hiding itself in pretty blonde princesses. You’d die to worship her, die to sin for her: it’s all the same.

“I’m right with you,” Miyeon says, steeped in suggestion, in implication - on her inflection alone you can hear how she’d sound moaning around your cock. “I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. If you don’t get that dick inside of me right now I think I’m gonna drop dead.”

It’s a threat, it’s a promise, it’s theatrics - and how could anyone refuse her, when she puts it like that?

“Well,” you say, and you stand, struck and burning. You’re giving in. You’re a man, you’re weak; you’re no match for the devil in a dress like that. “I’d hate for you to die so young.”

You’re playing into it, and it’s still fucked up. You’re ten years older than her, or something like that. She’s calling you sir and you’re seconds away from calling her a nickname you shouldn’t. You wanna pull her onto your lap, onto your cock, tangle your hands in her hair, get her screaming and squirting, make her yours and yours alone-

“Well,” says Miyeon, mimicking you. “Then we agree.”

She’s all of your filthiest fantasies wrapped up in one. You’re hopeless. That’s sort of how the story starts.

-

Miyeon drags you to the bathroom, and puts her money where her mouth is. Well, so to speak.

Actually, you’re the one using your mouth - you lock yourselves in a stall and a beat later you’re sunk to your knees, pressing Miyeon against the door. Those fucking thigh-highs, driving you insane - you grip her thighs hard, force them apart, sink your teeth into the skin right above the lace. You’ll leave bruises and you already know it. You’ll leave more.

“Fuck,” Miyeon whines, and it’s like all her bravado has waned, all at once. You shove her dress up around her waist, and you had it dead-on: her panties are white and lacy like her thigh-highs, and you can’t believe she wears shit like this casually, can’t fathom how she walks out of the house without men throwing themselves at her feet. “Fuck, fuck-“

“Dirty mouth, huh?” you mutter, and sneak a glance up at her face. Oh, that’s a vision - the way all her delicate, angelic features contort as you drag a finger across the crotch of her panties, find her so wet she’s soaking through the fabric. She’s sensitive. It’s irresistible. “Shit,” you say, and you almost laugh, but you’re too worked up to get it out. “You weren’t lying - you’re soaked, baby.”

“Obviously,” bites out Miyeon, but the frustration both drains and builds to a point as you hook your fingers in the side of her panties and pull them down around her knees. “Oh - please, please, touch me-“

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. “Look at that,” you say, and slip your thumb across her clit - she’s so turned on that just the graze sends her shaky, knees wobbling. One of your hands slides to her hip, steadying her. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Miyeon, you know that?”

It’s the praise, it’s like it kills her: Miyeon makes a high, keening noise that can’t classify as a response, and her cheeks are so red. You’ve barely touched her and she’s debauched, falling apart - “You’re so needy,” you add, enjoying the way she blushes hot. “You want me to take care of you, huh? That’s all you wanted?”

“Yes, please,” she pants, and when you slip a finger inside of her she moans so loud you’d be surprised if you two got out of this unnoticed. “Please, I just want more, I need more-“

“Be patient, princess,” you murmur, and she stills completely.

Fuck. Fuck. Well, it’s one hell of a slip-up.

Immediately you stop your finger inside of her, but then you feel her cunt clench, and she’s so, so wet - and just like that, you know.

“Miyeon,” you say, and your voice comes out gravelly.

“No,” she says, breathy, petulant. You can’t come back from this - that’s where you’re at. Your students used to call her this in your classroom. It’s sort of fucked up. It’s so fucking hot. She bucks her hips, and you’re finger-fucking her again, and she whimpers, ducking her head.

“Princess,” you start, and the cry she makes is like music, like gospel.

“Yes,” she chokes out, and you can’t believe this was the same girl leveling you with a stalemate back at the bar, challenging you toe-to-toe, weapons locked and loaded - can’t believe she’s now leaking all over your fingers, whining and desperate, begging please, please, please. Maybe you should’ve known. The brattiest girls love to get the most submissive. “Please - I need more, I need your cock - please, sir, I’ll be really good, my pussy will be so good for you, I swear-“

It’s the sir that gets you, but also everything before and after. You haven’t asked her to and she’s already begging; it’s adorable, it’s got you so hard your self-control’s rapidly slipping out of your hands.

“Alright, alright.” You’re unable to deny her anything when she talks like that, looks at you with those eyes. You rise, slowly - and then before you turn her around, grant her every wish, you take her gorgeous face in both hands and ask, “You’ll be good? You promise?”

You’re teasing her, but she’s so far gone she doesn’t even seem to notice. Miyeon nods rapidly, opens her mouth to say something - it’s not an invitation you’re about to pass up; you have to kiss her - so you do.

There’s something sweet about it, something filthy - you’ve never had a kiss so consuming and hot and wet, not during any fuck, any hook-up - and Miyeon makes small, whining sounds as you lick into her mouth, and you’ve got her cheeks in your hands, gripping firm as you kiss her. She’s tiny against you, her body all slender and slight and soft, and maybe that’s what makes it so hot; you have her like putty in your hands, like you could mold her, break her. Like you could do anything at all to her - to her mouth, her hair, her throat, her tits, her hips, thighs, cunt, ass - and she’d just let you. You kiss her and it’s like she lets you own her.

“Good girl,” you say into her mouth, and you know you do by the way she melts. “So good. I’m gonna fuck your little pussy now, okay? I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. You’ve been so patient, princess.” It’s a lie - you’ve never seen anyone so desperate - but when you flip her around and get to work on your zipper, you doubt she’ll bother with technicalities.

You slide your dick inside of her, and she collapses.

Her pussy is like heaven, and it’s the only word for it - it’s tight, but she’s so wet that you slide in like her cunt was made for you, made to form-fit your cock - maybe it was some twisted hand of fate after all, that led you here. Maybe you were always going to end up fucking her in a filthy club bathroom, calling her princess, wrapping your hand around her neck - maybe even since the first time she walked into your classroom, this was the inevitability, the only way it could ever go.

It’s a thought that’s pretty and fucked up in the same instant. Well, that’s Miyeon - well, you think, at least it fits.

She looks like an angel and she submits like one, too: knees buckling, leaning into you like she wants you to eat her alive, sink straight into her skin. You’ve got one hand on her hip and the other carding through her silky blonde hair; where she ends, where you begin - ah, it’s all the same. It’s corruption, it’s damnation - this girl never could’ve been the devil, not with this perfect pussy, not with her moans ringing out like music - and you get the feeling you’re ruining her, wrecking her. She turns her head halfway and there are tears in her gorgeous eyes, decorating her lashes. She’s never been quite so stunning.

“Fuck-“ All Miyeon’s words are slurring, loosening around the edges - you tug on her hair and if you weren’t holding her up, around your cock, around your fist, you know she’d fall right to the ground. “Thank you, sir - fuck - your cock feels so good, thank you, thank you - my pussy really needed it-“ She’s babbling, drooling, her tears smudging her eyeliner, her mascara. Her eyes squeeze shut and she clutches at the door, hands pressed flat, and lets you sheath your dick inside of her, again and again, rougher than you should be, so raw it should be criminal - her pussy is holy, or you’ve got Satan wrapped around your cock. Duality of woman; Miyeon’s got many talents and getting fucked into oblivion must top the list.

She cums; she’s too incoherent to warn you, but you feel it. You yank her hair and keep going. She’s fully crying now, pleas slipping from her mouth like wine, like water, like the way her cunt’s leaking all over you like a faucet, and you bury yourself inside of her, turn up the tap - she cums again, again-

“You like me ruining your pussy, huh?” you growl right at her ear, biting at her neck. It’s animalistic, it’s leaving your mark - well, one of them, at least. There’s her thighs, there’s how it’s not likely she’ll even be able to walk after this - okay, you’re leaving several. “Slutty little princess. You’d take whatever I’d give you - you’d let me drag you out there and fuck you in front of everybody, wouldn’t you?”

Miyeon loves the idea so much it’s like she’d give up religion entirely; you can tell by the way her back arches, by the way her whines get even less comprehensible, her perfect face crumpling in pleasure. It’s a plan for another day.

“You want everyone to know,” you hiss, “that you’re just a perfect little cocksleeve for me. I know, baby. I know.”

Oh, a face like that - you should be worshipping her, should be soft and gentle, wary of bruises and breaking - and you’re sure every other guy treats her like a goddess, something to revere and please.

For what it’s worth, you do, too - it’s just that you’re pleasing her by fucking her so hard she’s a sloppy, sobbing mess, pleading yes, sir - more, harder, fuck, fuck - you’re paying her reverence by leaning in close and saying in her ear-

“I’m gonna cum inside you, princess.” It’s not a question, not a request. Miyeon’s already nodding her head wildly, tears streaming down her cheeks - she’ll give you an answer anyway. Facets of royalty; she knows her manners, her lessons. “I’m gonna fill up that tight cunt, make that pussy cream - tell me how much you want it, baby.”

Your voice comes out through gritted teeth; the demands release harsher than the way you’re fucking her, and you think you might be tearing her pussy up, might be destroying it. She’s crying and blubbering and moaning, tripping over that tongue in her mouth trying to respond - your thumb’s fast on her clit and it’s double the stimulation, and it’s pushing her over the edge again - she puts so much effort into being good, and-

“I need it.” Miyeon reaches a hand behind herself, scrabbling blindly for your back, your ass, like she actually thinks you’ll pull out if she doesn’t beg hard enough. You’ve never seen someone so openly needy with such little coaxing - oh, your little princess. No one’s ever been able to satisfy her. “Sir, please - I need your cum inside me, I need to feel it, I need to be filled up, need you to breed me - I was really good, I deserve it-“

Her words break off, shatter on the floor; you think she cums again but you can’t be sure. It’s the words breed me that do it - that’s another thing to revisit, to play into and taunt her with, but she’s right, too: she’s been so, so good. You’ve never had a better pussy, never had something more perfect enveloping your cock - she’s sopping wet, so much you can hear it every time you thrust into her, can hear how her cunt gushes as you rail her. She’s engulfed every one of your senses - the sound of her, the smell of her, the feel of her, all silky skin and hair and a vice grip on your dick - it’s an overload, it’s overwhelming-

You bury yourself inside of her, right to the hilt, and you cum.

It’s a flash flood, wave after wave - you cum, and then a split second later it’s as if Miyeon turns to liquid herself, all her muscles giving out - and you grab her firmly around the waist, let her sink to the floor. It’s probably disgusting, it’s no place for an angel like her - but there’s nothing else to do. She spills herself into your lap, breathing hard into your shoulder, trembling like an earthquake’s just swept through her, wrecked all her bones and nerve endings like it’d decimate a city.

“Princess,” you whisper, and move her off of your cock, gently. You feel just as exhausted as she looks - you can't remember the last time you came that hard.

She doesn’t say anything, and just clutches at you tighter, pressing herself to your chest. One of your hands skates to her back, rubbing smooth circles.

“Miyeon,” you murmur, and she hides her face in your neck. “You okay?”

“Shh,” she says, lips against your skin. “Yes. Perfect. Full. I - give me - a minute.”

You get the message: she’s too well-fucked to move, to speak, to stand. “Alright, baby. Take your time.”

She hums right under your ear, tired and pleased and spent, and you cradle her slight frame in your arms, mindful of oversensitivity. You don’t know how many times she came - you’ve never seen a girl do that before, snap and start cumming over and over, clenching tight like she couldn’t stop. You’ll ask, you will. But, first-

You don’t know exactly how long it is, with Miyeon attached to you like this, the smell of sex and the sugary-sweetness of her blonde hair drenching the air: could’ve been weeks, you think, half-delirious. Eons. The world could’ve ended and you wouldn’t have changed a thing: the girl in your lap’s gotta be an angel, like you said. She has connections with a higher power. She’d handle it.

(That, or she’s got the devil on the other line, willing to bow down and serve her. Well, you’d understand. You doubt any deity could ever resist her.)

Eventually, Miyeon extricates herself from your body, slumping back against the door of the bathroom stall. She pulls her knees up, parts them - her eyes are shut, but you can see her defiled pussy, lips swollen, thick white cum drooling from her slit to the floor.

“Fuck,” you exhale without thinking, and see a small smile flicker at Miyeon’s mouth.

“Hey,” she says, and parts her legs wider. More of your semen leaks out of her. “Can you-“ Her words are still shaky, unsteady, shot through with fuck-drunk slurring. “Give me it. Your cum.”

You cock an eyebrow at her, even though her eyes are still firmly shut, sleepy. “I think I already did that, princess.”

She pouts at you, peeks open one brown Bambi eye. “No,” she says, inching towards a whine, and taps her full bottom lip. “I wanna taste it.”

Oh, she’s gonna be the death of you - but you kind of figured that out, already.

“Cumslut,” you say, and she smiles prettily, and you’d never be able to deny her a damn thing.

You take two fingers and ease them just inside her pink, puffy cunt, scooping out your own cum. Miyeon hisses air out through her teeth, on edge and tender, at every part of her, but scoots closer anyway; parts her lips, sticks her tongue out like some rabid animal, desperately, greedily in heat.

“Christ,” you mutter, and you take her chin in one hand, and feed her your cum with the other.

The moment your fingers slip past her mouth it’s like she’s been starving all day: her slick little tongue laves over your skin, curling hot and wet as she licks and sucks your cum off your fingers - and there’s no way she’s not tasting herself, it’s straight out of her pussy - and she’s blushing again, aware of her own wantonness but powerless to stop herself. Still, Miyeon makes no apologies, no take-backs for her desperation. She eats your cum off of you, swallows it down so easily.

Her white panties are tangled around her ankles, and you pull her feet into your lap, beginning to work the lacy underwear from around her ridiculous shoes. “Good?” you ask, amused, horny - but you’re past that. You’ll let her wind down.

“I am kind of a cumslut,” Miyeon says dreamily, head lolling. She rubs her thighs together, dress still shucked up around her hips. “I love your cum inside of me, sir. Feels - feels really good. All warm and-“ She’s speaking in half-sentences, still thoroughly fucked out. “Nice. And perfect.” She passes the heel of her hand over her clit and winces, raw, sore, satisfied. “Like… fuck.”

“Fuck indeed,” you say, pleased at your handiwork. You finally wrestle the panties from the platform heels of her boots, stuff them in your back pocket. At first you think she doesn’t notice, but she peers up at you with those dark, irresistible eyes, and you realize she’s allowing it.

Ah, well. You’re all playing games, in the end. “Hey,” you say, switching tone to soft, wiping at her face with your knuckle. Her makeup’s a lost cause, her eyeliner smeared and lipstick a wreck from where you kissed the life out of her, from where she slobbered around your fingers, tasting your cum - her hair’s long gone, too, a disaster thanks to your tugging and pulling. She looks exactly like everything you’ve been doing to her. “You’re okay, right?”

Miyeon blinks, reaching up almost absentmindedly to place her hand on your arm, thumbing your wrist. So - maybe it’s not quite the game you thought it was. “What do you mean?” she asks, clarity returning with each flick of her fluttering lashes.

“You…” You swipe underneath her eyes. “You were crying. Like, really, really crying.”

Miyeon tilts her head, like she’s confused - but then a smile plays at the corners of her mouth, finding ground and spreading.

“Oh,” she says, startled, entertained. “You’re worried about me.”

She’s teasing you. She’s so adorable that you kind of allow it. “Old habits,” you say. “I mean - you were my student. It was in the job description.”

It’s a filthy point, and her nose scrunches, delighted. Miyeon scoots closer to you until her knees bump yours, and you’re still stroking your fingers across her high cheekbones.

“Hey,” she says, more serious. “I’m fine, I’m amazing. It’s sweet of you to worry. It’s just, like-“ You slip a hand into her hair and it’s gentle this time, caring; her chin tips, eyes closing slowly, like she’s a puppy and you’re hitting the exact right spot. “It was so intense - in the best way, obviously - and it was like… you were fucking my pussy, but I was feeling it everywhere.” Her palm drifts to her heart, rounds to a fist. She’s still smiling, nearing rueful, like she’s well aware of her own dramatics. “It was like - I think I’m in love with your cock, or something.”

“You’re cute,” you say, helpless.

“I know,” she says, and she’s looking at you again with those wide, doe-like eyes. “I think my pussy was made for you.”

It’s a dirty sentiment - and it’s one you agree with wholeheartedly, thinking of the impossibly tight, wet heat of her cunt, drinking you in, the perfect fit, the way she stretched and swore and took it - but there’s something in the sweetness in her eyes that makes you think of nuance, of hidden implications. You’ll get there, one day. You’ve barely begun.

“So,” you say, snapping the tension that’s gotten too affectionate for the moment. “You want me to breed you, huh.”

Miyeon gapes at you, then flushes pink, shifts forward so she’s almost in your lap again. “Shut up,” she says, tracing your jaw with a manicured nail. “I don’t - I don’t even know where that came from. I’m on birth control. And I’d fucking kill you if you actually got me pregnant. I just - I think the idea is hot, that’s all.”

“Alright.” You lift her hips, smoothing down her dress and placing her in your lap all in one motion. You’ve zipped up your pants, tucked away your cock - it’s like pillowtalk but you know you’ll have to wrap it up. “Just trying to see where I’m at, with you.” You settle a hand around her tiny waist, skimming her ribs. “You like being called princess, you like calling me sir, like pretending to be bred but would hate the real thing-“

“Right,” says Miyeon, suddenly sort of sleepy again, nudging her face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re a cumslut.” The words are nasty but the way you’re saying them, smoothing a hand over her hair - it’s all fondness, all feeling. Oh, you really dug yourself a hole here with this one. There’s no coming back from it. “And your pussy is incredible. And you sob like you’re dying when you get fucked good enough.”

“Yep.”

“Am I missing anything?”

Miyeon doesn’t emerge from your neck, just holds out her hand, curls it in a grabbing motion. “Phone,” she says, muffled by your collarbone.

You fish it out of your pocket, charmed. Miyeon adjusts herself in your lap, and you let your hand drop to her hip, balancing her; it’s worse, it’s all falling into place like puzzle pieces. You kiss her hair and she begins to enter her number into your phone. There’s something strangely domestic about it, and it’s such an awful idea, to think it - more damning than the sex, than the cum still dripping out of Miyeon’s pussy. It’s sweet. It’s comfortable. That’s the first - the second - the tenth problem, at least.

“There,” says Miyeon, and hands your phone back to you. “I gave you my number and texted myself.” Her eyes glitter as she tucks her knees up to your chest. “Now I’ve got your number. That means you can’t accidentally grow a guilty conscience and forget about me.”

“Thanks.” You can’t stop looking at her - she’s so gorgeous, so wrecked, your pristine little princess fucked and filled and wrapped up in your arms. “And there’s no way in hell I’d ever forget about you.”

You’re just bouncing back her own words at her, theoretically, but Miyeon beams like she knows you mean more than that. Hey, you did say she was always your best student: she knows how to read between the lines.

-

You’ve got a wet spot on your pants and Miyeon’s wobbling on unsteady legs, so badly that you basically have to hold her up around the waist - but your pants are black anyway, and you’ve cleaned most of the ruined makeup off of her face. There are efforts made to be presentable. Miyeon tilts her cheek into your shoulder and won’t make eye contact with anyone. The bar’s busy. You pretend not to notice, tug her closer. You grin at the bartender, who raises his eyebrows like he’s impressed - well, he should be.

It’s cold outside - you think Miyeon will freeze in her tiny dress, so you keep your arms around her, and kiss the top of her head. Miyeon smiles at you, all teeth, all tenderness. Her eyes are warm, radiant, softening every edge of the night; she stands on her tiptoes, slots her mouth to yours.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” you murmur, fingertips dancing down the curve of her back.

“Probably,” agrees Miyeon, and lets her nose brush yours. “Take me home.”

-

You do. She doesn’t let you into her apartment - my roommate’s a whore who will try to jump your bones, she tells you matter-of-factly, and doesn’t elaborate, so you let that one go - but you walk her to the door - you’re a gentleman - and then you pin her up against it and slip your hand up her dress, get your fingers on her clit, inside her, cover her mouth as she cums - okay, so maybe you’re not.

“I’m keeping your panties, princess,” you say, after. It’s a fair trade.

Miyeon’s cheeks are flushed pink, and you’ve never found the phrase post-orgasm glow quite so apt. “Okay,” she says, voice softer than her skin as you rub between her shoulder blades, tangling her blonde hair.

You laugh out loud. “There’s no way you’re being shy right now,” you say. “I just fucked you in public-“ You gesture out at the open night, at the occasionally passing cars- “for the second time in an hour.” Your cum from earlier is now dripping down her thighs, too, but that one’s almost too obvious to call attention to.

“A bathroom stall is not public.���

“It was a public bathroom, Miyeon. It’s in the name.”

“You’re lecturing me on semantics?” Miyeon asks, eyes narrowing, a playful slant to her lips. “What are you, my teacher?”

Oh, she loves this - and at this point, you’re too far gone to pretend you don’t kind of love it too. “Shut up,” you say, forgoing maturity, and kiss her one more time, because you have to.

It’s all such a disaster, and you already know this: because it’s too casual, too comfortable, too easy - to kiss her like you’ve got a claim to her, to cum inside her pussy like you own it. You think of framing her fluttering eyelashes and sated, tiny smile as you pull back, think of her in your bed, on your kitchen counter with her legs spread, in the passenger seat of your car with her hand wrapped around your cock. She’s got all the dirtiest parts of your imagination on lock with that face alone. It couldn’t be worse.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, suddenly breathless.

“See you,” Miyeon says, grinning at you - and you know right then that you’ll never be able to leave this alone.

-

You’re right. It’s a whirlwind. That same weekend, you call her, give her your address, ask her to come over - you accidentally end up on the phone for two hours before she even leaves her apartment, and nothing in the conversation ends up being about sex. You tell her about a new story you’re starting. She tells you about a class she’s taking that she hates, about a gig her friend Yuqi’s band is doing. It’s so easy to get caught up in conversation with her, to tell her about every thought that pops into your head, to listen as she tells you hers - there’s that word again. Easy. It’s bad.

Eventually, Miyeon says, “Oh, I was supposed to come over to fuck you, wasn’t I?”

It’s cute, it’s adorable, even when it shouldn’t be. “You forgot?” you ask, teasing. “I thought all this talk was just foreplay.”

“Yeah, I’m, like, dripping. Talking about how Yuqi’s gonna have to find a replacement for her notoriously flaky keyboardist really got me going.”

You never expect Miyeon to get sarcastic, to get snarky and dry, but it’s always so charming when she does. Even more charming when every time, without fail, she always follows it up with-

“Sorry.” Miyeon breathes out on a giggle, bordering bashful. She can rarely be sassy without apologizing for it immediately after. Oh, it’s her pedigree, it’s the nature of a monarch, all her humility, her politeness - she can never keep a bit running for long.

“You should be,” you say. “Get over here, princess.”

A smile seeps into her voice. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, my god.” There’s a loud, feminine voice on Miyeon’s end, somewhere in the background, crowing with open delight. “Cho Miyeon, are you having phone sex right now?”

“Nicha,” Miyeon says sharply, clearly scandalized.

“Oh my god.” The word’s a switch flipped: now the voice sounds equally scandalized. “You’re bringing out my government name? Is it that serious?”

Apparently, it is. “Ignore her,” Miyeon says, to you this time. “See you in fifteen minutes.”

You can’t back down from the opportunity to provoke her, especially when you’ve never quite seen her on edge, not the way she sounds right now. Whoever this Nicha person is - she knows exactly how to push Miyeon’s buttons. Well, you’ll take a page out of her book.

“Hey,” you say, grinning, “speaking of phone sex - you know, I wouldn’t be opposed-“

“Ugh!” You can practically hear Miyeon’s flustered expression through the phone, can see the pretty, flattering way she’d blush and pout and slump her shoulders. “You’re - you’re fucking impossible. Bye. Bye!”

“See you in fifteen minutes,” you echo, and laugh out loud when she huffs one more time, and hangs up the phone.

-

Look, your apartment’s nothing special - you’re on a teacher’s salary, for fuck’s sake. It’s serviceable, bland. You’ve got some plants, you’ve got well-kept bookshelves, you keep it clean and uncluttered. You’ve got some recessed lighting and a vintage sofa. Needless to say, your apartment’s never seen a lot of luxury. The walls, the furniture, the floors - they’re patently unused to pretty things. You don’t have the means, or the motive. It’s just you. There’s no one to impress. 

Okay - until now, at least, because you’ve got-

“Oh, look at my girl.” 

You’ve got your fists wrapped in blonde hair, got wet, vulgar gurgling sounds bouncing floor-to-ceiling, got the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen on her knees in front of you with your cock shoved down her throat. It’s all so new. If these walls could talk - but they can’t, so she’s all yours. You’ll live with it.

 “You’re so good for me, princess. You love choking on that fucking cock, huh?” 

You can’t believe Miyeon’s face: her fine eyebrows upturned, the tears streaking down her face, running dark with eyeliner, mascara - the way she’s slobbering around your cock, drooling. The way she tilts her chin back, breathes through her nose, relaxes her throat; the way she lets you grab her head and fuck her face like you’ve got the right to. 

(Well, you do. She’s yours. She sure as hell feels it with your cock knocking right into her gag reflex.)

“You’re mine,” you say, and it’s so soon, so possessive. Miyeon, on her knees in front of you, a vision when she’s being fucked out and used. “This throat belongs to me, baby. I’m gonna fuck it whenever I want, okay?” You pause, give a particularly violent thrust, bite back a moan. “Don’t pretend like you don’t fucking love it.” 

Miyeon’s not pretending at all, actually; she’s too far gone for that. Her top is already tugged up, her tits heaving with each wet, strangled breath, with each time you grab her skull and bury yourself into her throat - and then there’s the fact that her knees are parted, her underwear long gone, her own fingers deep inside her pussy. 

No point in any pretense. It’s all out there on the table - oh, that’s an idea, bending her over every flat surface of your house; every piece of furniture can see this new, pretty thing you own - and she’s got nothing to hide. She’s so turned on just from letting you use her like your own personal fuckdoll. There’s no coming back from this, either. 

It’s those Bambi eyes, wide and watery. She’s staring rapturously at you like she’d do anything for you - and only Cho Miyeon can turn a blowjob - well, a full facefuck, really - into something holy. She’s the one on her knees, sure, but there’s no other way to put it: she lets you ram your dick down her throat and you swear you’re seeing Jesus.

She’s got this expert mouth, the way she knows all the right things to do to take a cock like yours - she gags like it’s something purposeful, performative; even the way her spit dribbles down her chin seems choreographed.

“I’m gonna cum now,” you exhale, and it’s not a request, “down your fucking throat, and you’re gonna swallow it all because you’re just a hole for me to use, yeah?” You see Miyeon’s fingers moving faster in and out of her pussy, her rhythm turning sloppy, irregular - the way she gets off on being treated like your property is unbelievable, it’s godly. “Nasty fucking cumslut.” It’s a way to up the ante: she loves the praise, but she loves the degradation, too - she really will take whatever you give her and love it. “Gonna fill your throat with my cum, gonna make you fucking take it-“

You cum down her throat, buried completely, and feel her swallow over the head of your cock, gulping down all your cum. It’s a concerted effort, it’s somehow with all the focus in the world despite how she’s got her cunt stuffed with her own fingers, practically humping her own hand, leaking all over your floors - and when you slowly unsheathe yourself from Miyeon’s hot, wet mouth, her eyes fall shut, her jaw still half-open.

“Look at you,” you murmur, spent and a bit mesmerized - it wasn’t a small load, and you’re not an easy cock to take. You lower yourself to the ground next to her, stroking your thumb across the soft curve of her jaw. “Oh, princess.”

Miyeon opens her mouth, sticks out her pink tongue, shows it clean and cum-free.

You grin, a little wildly. “Good girl.”

“Thank you, sir.” You take her delicate wrist in your hand, bring her cum-slick fingers to your lips - you’ll have to get your mouth on that pussy eventually, but this’ll do for now. Miyeon doesn’t even make any effort to stand, just throws herself half in your lap, her bare thighs grazing your cock. She looks up at you with those glassy, hypnotizing eyes as you suck her own cum off of her fingers, trembling, oversensitive; you’re sure she made herself cum probably more than once. “You liked fucking my mouth?”

It’s the way she asks it, all this faux-innocence: she obviously knows you loved it and she’s just fishing for compliments. Well, you’ll indulge her.

“Of course,” you tell her, bemused by her transparency, and skim your thumb over one of her nipples, making her shiver. “You’re - you’re really good at that, you know.”

Miyeon tilts her head, tongues the corner of her red, well-fucked mouth. “At sucking cock?” Her expression shifts, takes a turn - there’s a wit hiding in the whole virtuous act she likes playing so well. “I’m just a natural, I guess. I’ve never sucked a cock before in my life.” She nods, all false humility. “That was my first time, actually.”

She’s fucking with you, but you’d probably never be able to catch it if you hadn’t picked up on at least a few of her tells by now. “Shut the fuck up,” you say, and all of a sudden you’re laughing, defenseless after your mildly world-shattering orgasm. “You’re so stupid.”

“No, you want the truth? I was a virgin before that night in the bar. You totally deflowered me.”

“Miyeon.” 

“I’m being serious.” Miyeon’s smiling sweetly now, always ready to run a joke into the ground. She’s mostly naked on your lap, and she’s leaving a wet spot on your jeans from god knows how many times she came just from fingering herself, just from getting her throat fucked. It’s insane how she can still bring out this virginal angel just to mess with you. “I’m a good girl, like you said. You corrupted me. All of this sluttiness is entirely recent and completely your fault.”

“Shut up,” you complain, but you’re still laughing, and now Miyeon’s breaking character just to laugh at you, too.

“Sorry,” she says, and she’s burying her face into your neck, slightly delirious, her shoulders shaking with her giggles. “Sorry. You’re right. You caught me. I’ve been a whore this whole time.”

“I know, baby,” you tell her tolerantly, and kiss her temple, move some of the damp, unruly strands of hair off her cheeks. After a face-fuck that rough, it’s almost unfathomable that the energy between you two ends up getting too sentimental for the moment, but maybe it’s just the way things were always meant to go.

-

Like you said, there’s this new story you’re starting. It’s nothing long-term, nothing especially complicated. It’s about a girl, so it’s the oldest story ever told. It’s about longing, so you’re leaning into the melodrama. It’s all about the feeling, and where you’re at in your life, right now, you’ve never quite lived through the kind of love that’s in all the novels, so you’re mostly making it up, playing it by ear, pulling fiction from fantasy.

(That’s what you’ll tell yourself. It’s really too soon for it to be anything else.)

-

Things escalate, fast. Miyeon’s over at your place all the time. Sometimes you pick her up from some of her later classes, take her out, take her back to your apartment. They’re not dates, exactly. You both just have a love for cinema, for new bestsellers that you discuss like you’re middle-aged wine moms at a book club, getting too into it. Also, once you two get wrapped up in conversation, it’s almost impossible to just drop it there. You and Miyeon start talking and you never really stop.

It’s like you blink and suddenly you’re two months in - and it’s not like you’re in a relationship, but it’s pretty clear that you’re exclusively fooling around, and you also spend so much of your time together that you know what’d it look like to an outsider. You talk to Miyeon about pretty much everything, but you avoid any mention of making it official. You’re two months in, and she finally invites you over to her apartment.

“I know,” she says, the first time you come over. “It’s egregious. I get it.”

You haven’t even said anything, but she’s not wrong. Her apartment’s gorgeous once you see it on the inside, and way bigger than you thought it was - ridiculous, considering it’s just her and her roommate. Nothing like what you’d expect the average college student to be able to afford, but-

“My family,” Miyeon offers, by way of explanation. “They like to spoil me.” You’d kind of already known that, though. The high school you teach at is this swanky private one, and it wasn’t unusual to have the children of business tycoons, lawyers, doctors, the like - and she’d graduated from there, so it’s not quite out of left field. “And my roommate’s descended from Thai royalty, or something. She’s not exactly hurting for money, either.”

“Naturally,” you say.

So her apartment becomes fair game, too. She gives you her spare key like it’s nothing - easy access, she tells you, covers up the intimacy with innuendo. She forbids you from coming around when her roommate is home, but that ends up being a lost cause. You’re bound to have run-ins with her friends, you realize that - Miyeon’s always been exceedingly well-liked, notoriously popular - but it doesn’t fully hit you how seriously close you’ve gotten until it actually happens.

You’ve somehow managed to fuck her almost everywhere in her apartment without running into her roommate until it’s a Sunday, almost three months from that first day - and everything about you and Miyeon together is sacrilege, you know that; maybe it’s a sign - and you’re coming to take her out to this sale at your favorite bookstore, and probably fuck her in the bathroom of the coffee shop next door. It’s a toss-up, it’s all going according to plan-

That is, until you step into the kitchen, and there’s a girl standing at the counter who is decidedly not Miyeon.

“Uh,” you say. “Hello?”

The girl glances up at her phone, immediately gets this curl to her red-lipped mouth, and - oh.

This is the roommate. It’s clear, in an instant: you’ve heard how Miyeon talks about her roommate, you’ve heard her voice on the phone - you’re not a fan of using any derogatory language towards women you don’t know, so you’ll put it like this: she’s got a reputation already. She smiles at you coyly, puts her phone face-down on the counter; she’s living up to it. 

“Hi,” she says, voice smooth, velvety. She’s got these unreasonably gorgeous eyes, accented with thick eyeliner, mascara: they’re a striking, arresting pale green, at odds with the fairness of her skin, the jet-black of her hair. “You’re Miyeon’s boyfriend, right?” 

“Um,” you say, intelligently; so, that’s a label you two still haven’t discussed. You should get on that, maybe. 

The girl’s smile widens, like she’s taking your hesitation as a go-ahead, a green light. Oh, this one’s trouble. You know it without even knowing her. 

“Well,” she says, propping her elbows up on the kitchen counter. She’s wearing a tight, low-cut shirt - it’s insanely flattering, and, hey, you’re only human. You notice but you’ll pretend that you don’t. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Minnie.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, a little amused by the performance of it all. 

Minnie tilts her head, looking you up and down. Her eyes fall half-lidded, in this sleepy, sexy way that seems unintentional, but you’re already getting the sense that nothing Minnie does is unintentional. 

“Hey,” she purrs, and it already sounds like a proposition. “You’re kind of hot, you know.” 

“Oh, am I?” you ask, humoring her. She’s just so obvious. It’s sort of fascinating. 

“I’d say so.” Minnie rounds the counter, and she’s wearing this short skirt, legs bare and slender, all toned. Her hair brushes just past the high line of her collarbone. There's something about her that oozes sex appeal - it’s impossible to ignore. 

“Just a heads-up,” she says, “if you ever get bored of Miyeon and her whole princess thing, my room’s right down the hall from hers.” Minnie smiles, devilish. There’s an irony about it that makes you wonder if it’s a genuine offer or some sort of private joke she’s making, something you’re not cool enough to be in on. “So - you know where I am.” 

It’s more than slightly hilarious that you met thirty seconds ago, and she’s already offering up sex like it’s nothing - if she were less gorgeous, you’d laugh out loud, but Minnie wears her allure like jewelry, something to show off and brag about. This is definitely a girl who’s used to getting what she wants. 

It doesn’t escape you that Minnie’s the polar opposite of Miyeon, who wields her beauty with all this innocence, all the false wide-eyed naïvete in the word - she’s a good girl, that’s her starring role. This girl - Minnie - nothing about her’s innocent, not in the least. Her tongue darts across her bottom lip; she looks like she’d eat you alive, if given the chance. She’s hot. She’s also not even remotely your type, because that’s obviously-

“Oh my god,” says Miyeon, rushing down the stairs, feet hitting the hardwood as she practically jumps off the last step. “Oh my god. Nicha, I swear to god, if you’re trying to fuck him right now-” 

Minnie actually looks mildly pained. “Please chill with the government name.”

“You’re such a whore,” grumbles Miyeon, bounding towards you to clutch at your hand. It’s a side you’ve never seen of her: jealousy. It’s adorable, but everything she does is adorable. Miyeon glares pointedly at Minnie, tells you, “The eyes are fake. Don’t fall for it.”

“What?” you ask. Minnie blinks at you, grins. 

“They’re colored contacts,” says Miyeon, scowling. “Fake. So fake. She’s not even that hot without them.”

“I’m very hot without them,” argues Minnie, but she leans back, brushing her hair over her shoulders - it’s a clear surrender, a white flag waving. She’s backing off. 

“Sorry,” she says, and barely sounds like she means it, but her smile’s charming enough for her to pull it off. “Didn’t mean to be a homewrecker or whatever.” 

You’re not really sure what it is, but it takes a second, and it’s like you’re looking at someone totally different. Minnie’s whole sensual persona slips away, vanishes entirely - now she’s just got her head tipped like a puppy, watching the two of you with curious eyes. Even her voice rises in pitch - so there’s the behind-the-scenes, the performance dropped. She’d probably make a killing as an actress. It’s actually almost impressive, how she can turn the seduction off and on like a switch. 

“Liar,” says Miyeon, detaching herself from you, but the venom’s drained out of her voice. She goes to Minnie, winds her arms around her waist, kisses Minnie’s cheek affectionately. “She’s a natural slut,” she says to you, but now she’s smiling too. “She can’t help it.” 

“It’s in my genes,” agrees Minnie, pressing her lips to the top of Miyeon’s head. 

“Right,” you say. You’re getting the feeling the bickering is just a facet of Miyeon and Minnie’s friendship, because they very clearly adore each other. Oh, well. It’s cute. You won’t question it.

“And she likes to take things that belong to me,” adds Miyeon, a certain wickedness to it, a threat.

You raise your eyebrows at her; possessiveness looks great on her, but then again, so does everything. Minnie shrugs, doesn’t even bother to deny it. Clearly, it’s an old fight, a score they’ve far past settled.

“Good to know,” you say, and hardly lift a hand in Miyeon’s direction - she comes to you as easy as if you’d given her a verbal command. It’s not exactly subtle, how she slips under your arm like it’s an order she’s following.

“Oh,” says Minnie, and it sounds like oh, I get it - it’s like that. Like she’s got you two pegged instantly. Maybe she does. “You guys are dating.”

“We’re not,” says Miyeon, boredly. The disinterest’s entirely an act, but an excellent one.

“Baby, it wasn’t a question,” says Minnie, wry like she can read Miyeon’s mind. There’s something so intense about her eyes, no matter how false they might be - the way they flick from you to Miyeon, drawing lines, dynamics. You don’t know how much Miyeon has told her, but she observes the two of you like she knows everything and then some. She purses her lips, then packs it up. You’re not sure what she’s seeing when she looks at you and Miyeon but you think you’ve got an idea.

“Have a good night,” Minnie tells you, and the smile that follows is secretive, enigmatic. “And it was so great to finally meet you.”

-

“She seems nice,” you say.

“She’s a whore,” says Miyeon, rapid-fire, and then laughs a sudden, musical laugh. “She’s also, like, my favorite person in the world. I didn’t think you’d meet her like that - I swear I thought she wasn’t home.”

“So crazy that she thought we were dating,” you say, dryly.

“Yeah,” Miyeon replies, in your car, pretty in a pink dress as you’re taking her out. The sarcasm’s too thick to call out. You both know what game you’re playing, by now. “Who could’ve ever come to a stupid conclusion like that?”

-

You two are able to talk about anything, you settle on a handful of books to buy, you don’t even have to go next door because you get Miyeon’s panties off in the dark alleyway, sink to your knees and eat her out. She squeals and mewls and sucks at keeping quiet. Her pussy’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, but you’ve learned by now that Miyeon’s the kind of girl who’s impossible to compete with.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you,” she tells you, shamelessly, as you wipe her cum off of your chin.

“Right back at you,” you say, and kiss her until she’s gasping for air. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be but with her, and you don’t have to ask - she kneels to return the favor, and you know she feels the same.

-

Minnie actually ends up having a running commentary on your relationship - you’ve realized by now that she’s Miyeon’s best friend, which means she doesn’t believe in boundaries, or mincing words. Case in point - well, there’s several, but you’ll settle for this one:

“Jesus fucking Christ,” says Minnie, one evening, when she catches you and Miyeon on the couch in their apartment. “You two are disgusting.”

It’s a big reaction, considering you and Miyeon aren’t anywhere near having sex - you’re hotly debating the quality of an Netflix miniseries you just finished binge-watching together, discussing themes and plot points and character arcs. Miyeon’s defending it to the death, calling it camp, pulling up comparisons to cinematic masterpieces on her phone. You hate it; you’re arguing that it’s trite garbage, clinical and passionless and dumb. 

“What?” says Miyeon, confused. “We’re just talking.”

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re fully clothed and everything.” 

“It’s disgusting that Miyeon somehow found someone just as pretentious as she is to argue about her dumbass TV shows with,” clarifies Minnie, her arms crossed. “It’s gross. You two are gross. Like - we get it, you’re made for each other because you both take media analysis way too seriously.” 

Miyeon stares at her, mouth agape. Minnie turns on her heel and walks right out, apparently too nauseated by you both to tolerate your presence any longer. 

“Um,” you say, a little lost for words. 

Miyeon’s discarded her phone on her coffee table, and now she’s watching you, eyes suddenly soft. You raise your eyebrows at her, can’t fight the smile at how she scoots closer to you, tucks her thighs up to her knee. “Yes?” you ask, expectantly. 

“Nothing,” Miyeon says, tapping her dainty fingers along your wrist, thumb skipping across your pulse point. “But you’ve thought about it before, haven’t you?” 

You don’t pretend that you don’t know what she’s talking about - you respect her too much for that. You nod, watch her throat bobs when she swallows, looks up at you carefully, like she’s trying to memorize the look on your face.

“Alright,” says Miyeon, finally. “It’s just - we kind of work, in a weird way.”

It’s cute, her restraint. You slip a hand in her hair, bring her close so you can kiss her forehead. “We kind of do,” you tell her, and you have faith that you’ll get there. It’s only a matter of time.

-

You’re still not really dating, but - so, it’s complicated. 

It’s a Tuesday when you’re both out getting coffee together, and it’s under the pretense of sex, because it always is. Miyeon likes getting fucked where she knows she can get caught, and it’s her thing, it’s a pattern: public bathrooms, parks, alleyways, dressing rooms. There’s something so filthy about it, the juxtaposition - your perfect, pristine girl, begging for your cock in the nastiest places, biting down on your fingers to keep from screaming, walking out with cum dripping from her cunt like it’s nothing. It’s worse because nothing about her’s inconspicuous, after this - she walks out of every round looking exactly like she just had the best sex of her life, and nothing less. Everyone who sees you two together knows what you’re up to. It’s just that much hotter. 

So - that’s the thing. It’s easy for you guys to spend all your free time together - between the college classes she’s taking, between the high school ones you’re teaching. You call her on lunch breaks, after you’re done for the day, say all sorts of suggestive things; she responds in kind, all dirty texts and pictures. Her pussy takes up half your photo gallery. See, it’s not romantic, at its core; it can’t be. It’s too dirty. There’s nothing sweet about it. 

Except-

You’re supposed to be having a hook-up, right now. You’re supposed to be fucking her in the bathroom of this coffee shop. That was the proposition when she texted you i need your dick now with absolutely zero shame, along with pictures of her outfit, her tiny white top pulled down to expose her creamy tits, her hard nipples. That was the entire idea. 

“I love that book,” Miyeon’s telling you now, splitting a slice of coffee cake with you across the table. Best laid plans, or whatever. Somehow you two always get distracted by conversation first. “Well, that’s the thing about you and me. Nobody my own age appreciates classic literature.” 

“That’s such a lie,” you say, endeared. “You’re flattering me.” 

“None of my friends know them front to back like you do,” she points out, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her stunning eyes are bright, her words fast and passionate - she always gets like this when she’s excited, animated, dialed up to eleven. You shouldn’t find it as adorable as you do. “Because you’ve taught them. You’ve studied them - you get all the nuance. Also, you’re old.” 

She’s making fun of you. “Cool it.” 

“But it’s true,” Miyeon laments, pushing buttons on purpose. “Of course you know the classics - you’re, like, ancient enough to remember when they all first came out.” 

“I’m seven years older than you.” It’s been established, by now. Miyeon still gets off on the gap between you two, even though it’s nowhere near as wide as she likes to pretend it is. “Calm down.” 

You’re smiling, though. Miyeon grins, takes a bite of her cake. “You get me, is my point,” she says, dropping the dramatics. “That’s all I’m saying.” 

You’re supposed to be fucking her half to death in a public bathroom by now, and you probably will, after all of this. It’s just - you’re blurring lines. You’re not dating, not really. It’s just that you can talk to her for hours on end without getting bored, and sometimes all you have to do is look at her to know exactly what she’s thinking, exactly what dumb joke she’s about to make, exactly what face she’ll pull at something you say. It’s just supposed to be sex, but she’s all you ever think about. It’s nothing serious, but you get the sense she feels the same way.

“I do,” you say, softer than intended. 

There’s this way Miyeon smiles at you, sometimes. It’s the same look she gets on her face when you’re watching one of her favorite movies together, something woefully pretentious and deeply romantic, something that’s bound to get her teary-eyed and laughing at the same time, curled up in your lap. Like she’s looking at something she’d never want to look away from.

“Well,” she says decisively, and under the table, her hand finds your thigh. You’ll put a pin in all those feelings. They’ll come back around eventually. “I’m glad we agree. Wanna fuck me senseless in the bathroom now?” 

Even now, you’ll never be able to refuse her, but you’ll play nonchalant. “Tempting.” 

“I know,” Miyeon says, doe-eyed, and her mouth tips to a smirk. She’s so sentimental until she isn’t. “You can’t resist me.” 

“Nope,” you comply, giving in like it’s nothing, and then you’re tugging her right out of her seat. Well, it’s par for the course. When it’s you and her together, neither of you can keep up an act for long. 

-

You’re not dating, and it’s not sweet, it’s not romance. It actually gets kind of extreme, there in that one-person bathroom, where you’ve got her back against the counter and one of her thighs tucked to her chest, and you’re pounding her pussy so hard it’s bordering violent. She’s sniffling, tears dribbling down her cheeks, and that’s all her signs at once: she’s only this much of a mess when she’s loving it. 

“Look at you, princess,” you murmur, and she gasps into the fingers you’ve got stuffed in her mouth, drooling all over you. “You’re just addicted to this cock in that tiny little pussy, aren’t you? You’d let me keep you like this for fucking days, just being my pretty fucking cockwarmer. You’d die for it.” 

Miyeon grips your wrist, spits your fingers out from between her lips. Her eyes are mesmerizing, glassy and lined with newly mussed makeup from how she’s crying - she’s become such a disaster, so fast. This is always the best part: how you wreck her, how she lets you. 

“Yes,” she pants. “It’s yours, it’s all yours - feels so good, sir, my pussy belongs to you-” 

“I know, baby.” You grip your hand in her silky blonde hair, and the whimper she lets out is from the pain, from the pleasure - for her, it’s the thinnest line, it’s already overlapping. “Let me keep you on my cock for a weekend, cumming in all your holes…” You lean in close, nip at her ear, yank her head back. “Imagine it,” you hum. “Imagine just being my cumdump for days, just taking load after load in that little cunt. Keeping you on my lap, all that cum inside you, plugged up by my dick…” 

Miyeon knows it’s coming. You can tell how her eyes fall shut, how her tiny body trembles, how she clenches around your cock - she’s trying so hard to keep quiet and only half-succeeding. Well, you’ll push her over the edge. 

“How long do you think it’d take to get you knocked up?” 

“Stop,” she whimpers, but she darts a glance up at you in the mirror, eyes glimmering. You’ve got your boundaries, your safewords - you know it’s not an actual rejection. 

“Stop?” you ask, and there’s danger in the way you laugh, a warning. Miyeon catches it, whines and writhes and only gets wetter. “Please. Don’t act like you don’t love the idea of me breeding that slutty fucking pussy. Cumming all the way inside your womb, filling you up with my load - you’re young, Miyeon, you know what you are.” It’s two hits in one, and she bites so hard into her bottom lip you’re shocked she’s not drawing blood. “A tight little body like this is fucking made to be bred. You’d be so fucking lucky if I got you pregnant, wouldn’t you? If I used you as a fuckhole to breed and nothing else - if I fucking owned you, made you belong to me, used you like my fucking property-” 

Miyeon’s breathing stutters so badly you think she might be on the verge of hyperventilating - but you’ve also never seen her so ruined, so consumed by your cock in her, by the fantasy you’re painting. “Oh my fucking god,” she chokes out, and she keeps it as quiet as she can - you’re still in public, and the pressure’s only getting to her more, getting her hot and riled and helpless - but she’s too far gone for composure. “Oh my god. Oh, fuck-” 

“Say it,” you snarl, right at her ear. “Say it, princess. I know you want to. Tell me what you want me to fucking do to you.” 

There’s no stopping, no stalling - you’ve pushed her right to the edge, and she’s past pretending like she doesn’t want exactly what you’re giving her. 

“I want you to breed me.” Miyeon’s sobbing, lost in the euphoria, in the very thought of it - the way she lets you break her so completely, in public where anyone would catch her: it’s criminal, it’s tugging an angel out of the sky just to fuck her down to hell. “I - just need you to fuck me, breed me, use me - do whatever you want to me, I just need you, sir, I need it - you’re right, I’m just a fuckhole, you own me, I belong to you-”

“That’s my girl.” Your hand drops to her clit just as her elbows hit the hard surface of the counter.

When she cums, now you know she draws blood - she’s got her knuckles at all her pretty white teeth, and the way her body contorts as her orgasm overwhelms her is something animalistic, feral. You’re cumming with her, but you can’t take your eyes off of Miyeon’s reflection in the mirror, off of the straps of her top hanging off her slender shoulders, the mess you’ve made of her hair, the destroyed makeup dripping from her eyes - there’s something so aesthetically flawless about the crease between her eyebrows, the heavy rise and fall of her chest, the way she spits scarlet blood into the sink in one quick, debilitated move. It’s like she’s a masterpiece, fucked out, fucked up. She's a portrait made to be ogled, observed and fawned over. Every detail’s goddamn perfect. 

You catch her around the waist, slide your cock out of her as she whimpers. Her pale knuckles are beading with blood, and she’s still got some between her teeth. Miyeon turns her head again, spits, but it comes out weaker, drool slipping from the corner of her mouth. 

“Miyeon,” you mumble, and go for her purse on the counter instead of the paper towel dispenser - when you’ve got a girl who likes being fucked in public as much as Miyeon does, you’re a pro at damage control by now. 

The sound Miyeon lets out isn’t even close to anything coherent, any full words or sentiments. You take the package of makeup wipes, pat Miyeon’s hip, turn her around. “You’re okay,” you tell her, gently getting to work at the eyeliner, the bloody spit at her lips. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I got you.” 

Miyeon still can’t speak, but she leans her lithe body into you, lets you take her jaw in your hand. There’s something so careful about the way you clean her up, take care of her after - that’s the thing about fucking a masterpiece; there’s an upkeep to it, a science in the art. 

You toss the used makeup wipes in the trash when you’re done, then spin her around, smooth your hands through her hair. “Alright,” you say, and you go for her panties, tugging them back up around her hips. Your cum will be leaking out of her the whole way home, but it’s par for the course. “How are we holding up?” 

There’s always this disparity between the two of you - she can barely walk after cumming, you’re mostly functional. It’s how you work, you think. She’s your girl, your baby; it’s the point. She knows you’ve got her, no matter what you do to her. 

Miyeon meets your eyes in the mirror, breathing evening out, completely spent. She curves into you, into your hand on her tiny waist, and presses her lips to your cheek. 

“You already know this,” she says, voice hoarse. You flip the tap on to wash her blood out of the sink, go for a tissue in her purse. “But no one compares to you, ever.” 

It shouldn’t get to you like it does, but it does. 

You press the tissue to Miyeon’s bloody knuckles, kiss the high point of her wrist. “Well,” you tell her, unable to drag your gaze away from those gorgeous eyes, looking at you with all the open devotion in the world. “It’s a good thing the feeling’s mutual.” 

-

You run into one of the employees outside the bathroom, but there’s not a line, thank god. Well, it could be worse. 

The employee’s staring at the two of you like she’s suspicious but too grossly underpaid to call you on anything. “Um,” she says. 

“Sorry,” you say, and pull Miyeon tight to your side, slipping the palm of your hand over her stomach. “My wife - she’s pregnant with her first. Morning sickness.” You kiss the top of Miyeon’s hair. “Takes a lot out of her.” 

Miyeon’s gawking at you with wide, shocked eyes. You ignore it, smile beatifically. 

It’s not a bad act, on your part. The employee says, “Oh, yeah, okay. You were just in there a while, so I was - well, congrats, on the baby.”

“Thanks,” you say politely, and slip past the employee, Miyeon tucked under your arm. “That’s kind of you, really.” 

The performance comes unraveled the moment you leave the coffee shop, and Miyeon’s half-irate, slapping at your chest, wavering on unsteady legs as you step out on the sidewalk together. You grin down at her, play dumb. “What’s wrong?” 

“You are so fucked in the head,” accuses Miyeon, but then she’s laughing so raucously that she almost tumbles to the concrete in her platform sandals. You steady her waist, rein her back in. “You’re so - your wife? Pregnant? You’re such a - I hate you, I seriously-”

“You seemed to like the idea when I was fucking you.” 

Miyeon’s been railed a little stupid, still, so she’s sort of slow on the uptake, can’t find a good comeback. She flounders, then says, “Um, no,” and it’s the weakest lie you’ve ever heard.

“No?” You crack up, lead her towards your car. “Need me to refresh your memory?” 

“Maybe,” says Miyeon slyly, not even hesitating, and you roll your eyes and open the car door for her. You’ll circle back to that plan another day. 

-

“So,” says Miyeon, later, in the passenger seat of your car. The window’s rolled down and the wind is throwing her blonde hair into disarray, sending her cheeks pink and lips bitten from the cold. She’s a vision, but she always is. “Cockwarming weekend? Or are you just all talk?” 

You risk a glance over at her, pretend like you wouldn’t stop traffic just to stare. “Don’t be a brat.” 

“You love it when I’m a brat,” says Miyeon, correctly, shuffling in her seat. There are bruises on her thigh from how hard you gripped her when you fucked her, hickeys decorating the delicate rise of her collarbone. She’s filled with your cum, but that’s nothing new. “So? What do you think about next week?” 

“Miyeon,” you say, unable to tell if she’s actually serious.

“I trust you’ll handle the logistics,” she says, her voice lilting, melodic, and her hand grazes your cheek, tangles into your hair. She says it like I trust you, like do whatever you want to me - I’ll let you. 

It’s a dirty proposal, but she manages to sneak sweetness in there anyway. There’s sincerity, between the lines of all the filth. It’s a running theme. 

“I’ll ruin you,” you warn, and it should send alarms blaring.

Miyeon smiles like they’re the best sound she’s ever heard. “Oh, no,” she says, thumbing the side of your mouth, and she’s laughing. “I think that ship has already sailed.” 

-

You make a lot of progress, on that story of yours. There’s no real reason: it’s just that you’ve found a muse who’s always content to be right by your side, clothed or unclothed, cumming or laughing or talking, wrapped up in your sheets past all the orgasms and far into the night.

(Miyeon stays, against all odds, even when you both know she doesn’t have to. Maybe, for you, there’s just a lot of inspiration to be found in that.)

-

planning for a part 2... eventually... but we'll see lmao

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Casual Friday (Bucky x Reader)

Request: Can I request Bucky x stark daughter one? She gets bullied by some agents at the compound because she’s very petite, has freckles and wears ripped jeans. They call her ugly and she’ll never find someone. Bucky overhears their shit talk and walks over, puts his arms around her and kisses her in front of them shutting them up. He gives them all an ugly glare telling them to stop talking shit about his gf. Tony sees it all on video feed and gives his approval of their relationship

Your nerves were killing you. You felt on edge every moment of the day. There was no other way to put it; you were a wreck. Between the drama at work and your dad hounding you about your boyfriend, it just felt like there was never a break; no escape. Threats lurked around every corner, and relief came in the form of a warm embrace. Bucky always managed to make you feel safe. Wrapped in his arms, you could almost pretend you were just a normal couple, young and in love. But that just wasn’t the case. He was a former assassin, and you were the only child of a billionaire who only allowed you to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. because he could keep an eye on you. Unfortunately, that did little to deter the average office asshole from harassing you on a daily basis.

It had been a particularly taxing week, considering Buck was on assignment which meant he wasn’t around and you couldn’t even call him. And because he wasn’t around, Tony had taken the opportunity  to  question your relationship to the extreme, insisting that Buck was no good, that he was a killer, that you would just end up hurt. Then, on top of that, your coworkers refused to let up on the back handed remarks. That seemed to be growing more trivial and petty by the day. You didn’t know that working in an office environment would mean a repeat of high school bullshit. If you would have known that, you would have just joined a cult. That would be better than having to deal with adults who  acted more like children instead of the professionals they claimed to be.

Perks of working in the unofficial office sector of S.H.I.E.L.D., you could wear whatever you wanted. Granted you dressed a little more casual than any of your coworkers - your weekday clothes were normally a pair of black jeans and a white button up tucked in - but on Fridays you were allowed to dress in casual clothes, and needless to say, your favorite ripped jeans were normally what you wore.

Today was one such casual friday, and as always you wore your comfortable jeans with a t-shirt you had borrowed from Buck and had never given back. It may have been a little big on your petite frame but you liked that it smelt like him. Making your way down the corridor, a stack of papers balanced in your arms, heading for the copy room. Not realizing that someone was walking towards you, you accidentally bumped them, sending the papers flying. You rushed to pick them up, while at the same time apologising to whoever you had run into.

“Sorry,” they said, bending to help you collect the papers, “I must have missed you, cause you’re so short.” Oh… it was Charlie… you understood now that bumping into him was less of an accident and more of an opportunity for him to harass you. “I mean that must be really hard, you know, reaching tall shelves, riding roller coasters, getting a boyfriend.” the smile he offered would seem innocent to any bystander, but you knew that this playful conversation was a backhanded insult.

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to get your papers back as quickly as possible, but Charlie held some back as to prolong the torturous interaction.

“Well I heard that guys don’t really go for girls as short as you. I mean, look at you, not to mention you’re as flat as a board.” You felt your face reden from both anger and embarrassment. The smile on Charlie’s face never faltered. That was how it was done, no one would blatantly insult you, all of the fighting was sneaky, petty, and invisible unless it was happening to you. You offered a weak chuckle, reaching for the papers in his hand, but he pulled back, standing to his feet. He was a good foot taller than you, and you knew he did it to prove a point.

“I never noticed it before, but you have a ton of freckles!” He said, leaning into your face. You tried to keep it together, knowing that somehow this would transition into an insult. “I mean, you should really take better care of your skin, those freckles look more like blemishes.” And there it was. Gritting your teeth, you forced out another thin lipped smile.

“Thanks for the advice Charlie.” You said, snatching the papers from his hand. He continued, unaffected by your clear discomfort.

“Oh, and I forgot to mention, you should maybe dress a little better, I don’t know who, but people are starting to talk. As the daughter of Tony Stark, I’m sure daddy gives you enough cash to buy some better fitting clothes.” You felt sick, as if the sticky sweet smile Charlie constantly wore was rotting your insides. Your smile finally fell completely, it was just too much, and he just wouldn’t let up. “I mean, how are you supposed to get a man? Between your figure to your skin and your clothes, it would be a miracle-” For a moment his smile faltered, and all the color drained from his face. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Shocked panic flooded your veins, but as soon as you saw the silver metal of the arm, you calmed instantly.Glancing behind you, you gazed up at Bucky, who had his eyes focused on Charlie. Charlie tried to paint his smile back on, but it seemed hesitant and broken. You didn’t know how he did it, but Bucky managed to break the insufferable Charlie with just a look.

“I may be a hardened assassin, not used to the comforts of society…” Bucky began, all the while Charlie squirmed under his heavy glare. “But I recognized an insult, and know that only a limp-dick, office poag, would stoop as low as to offer it as ‘advice’” Charlie looked like he was a deer in the headlights. “So, if you ever talk to my GIRLFRIEND like that again… I will personally hunt you down, and do things that would make you wish you were dead. “ Charlie’s smile was replaced by a look of genuine terror, as he nodded backing up. “Now get out of here.” Bucky concluded watching as Charlie scurried away, looking scared for his life. When Charlie finally disappeared around a corner, Bucky finally turned to look at you. The darkness that had once clouded his eyes was gone as he looked at you, all malice gone from his face. It was like he was a different person.

“Hi babe.” he offered, kissing you quickly. Still slightly confused, you looked at him for a moment before everything clicked,  you laughed loudly, throwing your arms around his neck.

“You’re back! That was amazing! How was your trip? Why are you here? Oh gosh I missed you so much!” You gushed, holding him tightly. He returned the hug, lifting you off your feet to spin you around.

“Too many questions, doll.” he chuckled, setting you back down. As he gazed into your eyes, he ran a thumb over your cheek. “You know, I like your freckles.” He offered lamely, to which you only laughed and punched him playfully in the stomach. Your reunion was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Looking up, your heart sank to see your dad standing at the end of the hall, his arms folded over his chest.

“Barnes.” Tony said walking closer, he looked between the two of you before nodding slightly. “Okay, I would just like to start by saying I saw the whole thing,” You opened your mouth to ask how, but Tony held up a small screen that appears to have the security feed displayed on it. “And no, I was not spying, I was just checking in, and happened to catch that that dicks conversation. I was planning on just getting him fired and possibly ruining his life, but then…” he glanced a Bucky “Muscles here showed up, and took care of it.” a smirk pulled at his lips as he continued. “Honestly, I thought the guy was going to pass out. Anyway, the point is that if you both insist on seeing each other.” he paused running a hand over his face. “Then I guess I could live with it.” he finished. It only took you an instant before you were on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheeks.

“Thank you dad! Thank you, I love you.” Tony couldn’t stop the smile from his face but chuckled hugging you back.

“Okay, okay, don’t make me change my mind kid.” he joked, looking to Bucky who nodded in appreciation. When you finally let go you turned back to Bucky and buried you face in his chest. This was possibly the best casual Friday ever.

[lovinkiri]

Okey, hear me out plz. Could you write about Sero, Tamaki, and Bakugou (separately) having a girlfriend who has psionic powers (like the Scarlet Witch) and she is Hawk's protégé. He like to think that he's like some kind of father figure for her so he's suuuuper caring and when he sees her having a smoochie moment with them he goes in PROTECTIVE FATHER mode and he gives the boys the "father talk *ejem...threat*"

Thank u you beautiful living being🌈🧡

Father Figure

Author's Thoughts: I got you bby! I don't write for Hawks so I hope he's at least a bit in character. I hope you don't mind its not headcannons.

Warning: Mentions of violence, threats, etc.

Hanta Sero

You were always like a child to Keigo. The child he'd figured he'd figured he just wouldn't get the chance to have. And though your quirk was different from his, he did a great job training you.

He put in the work, the research, getting to know your quirk. He read records with people of similar quirks, got in contact with those around, all so he could accurately train your ability. He wanted to be the best he could for you.

You grew up so quickly in his opinion. Too quickly.

From graduating high school, to headlining as his sidekick. To finally having a boyfriend.

Keigo was hesitant to meet this boyfriend of yours, but you'd told him how much it meant to you. And he'd do anything for you.

So he played as nicely as he could, staring at you and the boy you sat with.

"So.. Sero.. Are you planning on being a hero?" Keigo looked him up and down with a gaze full of judgement.

Hanta gave a nod, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah. I've always wanted to be a hero. I actually attended UA with Y/n." He looked at you and seeing your smile almost melted the tension.

Almost.

"Hey, Kid, could you go order me something to eat?" Keigo asked you, smiling innocently. Almost too innocently.

You gave him a look. He simply leaned his cheek against his palm, blinking owlishly. "Pretty please?"

Sighing, you stood up and nodded. "Got it. I'll be back." You leaned down and pressed a small kiss to Hanta's lips, something that made his smile tighten.

You looked at Keigo and pointed at him. "Play nice. Pretty please?" You crossed your arms. He gave you a sigh and a nod.

So you hesitantly walked away.

And the smile dropped from Keigo's lips.

"I'll just be straight with you, Hanta. She means everything to me. And if you value life itself, you'll treat her like she's everything to you. That girl doesn't love loosely, so this is nothing short of a honor- no, a privilege for you."

Hanta straightened out, nervous about Keigo's sudden change. "I-I understand, sir.."

Keigo gave a nod and leaned back in his chair, smiling again. "Well, I should hope so!" He chuckled softly.

That's when you walked over. "Here. I got you nachos. Did you two find something nice to talk about?"

The man with wings took the nachos. "Thank you, Chicken Wing. We sure did." He looked you Hanta who stiffly nodded.

You, having common sense though, put two and two together. "... Keigo, I asked you to be nice!"

"The nicest thing I can do for you is make sure he treats you right."

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki was afraid.

You'd told him all about Keigo, how protective he could be. And the only thing you'd promised was that he wouldn't touch him.

You and Tamaki were planning a trip to a nice resort.

You'd needed to grab something from Keigo's house, so Tamaki had to sit downstairs with said man.

Well, Keigo sat down. Tamaki stood in the corner, as far as possible. But he couldn't escape Keigo's glare. And if looks could kill..

It wasn't like he had a problem with Tamaki. He knew Fatgum, and the man hsd told Keigo all about his two sidekicks.

In fact, Keigo noticed that just like you'd become a daughter to him, Fatgum treated his sidekicks like his own sons.

The two often bonded over photos they kept in their wallets, sharing stories. Two parents bonding over their children, that's what everyone else saw.

It was from talking to Fatgum that he knew Tamaki wasn't a bad kid. That doesn't mean he wasn't gonna have a talk with him.

"Listen, Kid. I don't hate'cha. You're one of Fatgum's sidekicks and you seem.. Harmless enough."

Tamaki was sure it that should have offended, but Hawks continued either way.

"But when she needs you, I gotta know that you'll be there for her. She doesn't need you to protect her but if she ever does, I gotta know you'll do it. Take good care of her. I'd hate to end your whole career."

It wasn't like he had a problem with Keigo's orders. Tamaki loved you and would never let anything happen to you. Hell, he'd promised himself he'd be a man for you.

Keigo gave the sweetest smile and Tamaki shuddered, moving more into the corner.

It was the threat that scared him. He didn't know if he meant he was gonna kill him or if he was going to destroy his rising hero career.

You finally came downstairs with the object you needed. "Alright, I'm ready-.. Tama, are you okay?" You walked over, concerned.

"I-I wanna go home.."

You glared at the winged man and crossed your arms. "Keigo!"

Keigo leaned back into the couch. "Thanks for visiting you two, it was a pleasure havin' ya."

Katsuki Bakugou

Keigo was doing an autograph signing at the mall, just where you and Katsuki just so happened to have your date.

"Why do you think everyone is crowding over there?" You asked Katsuki, looking towards the crowd of people surrounding Keigo.

You'd thought his signing would be at another mall, not knowing that the venue had been changed last minute.

"No clue, don't care. Probably some big sale or somethin'. Why, you wanna check it out?" He looked at you, the arm around your waist pulling you closer.

You smiled and shook your head. "Nah. Let's just go to the bookstore then head to the park. Oh, actually, I'm gonna use the bathroom first."

You leaned up and gently kissed his lips, him blushing and returning the kiss in embarrassment.

When you pulled away, he mumbled under his breathe. "Idiot, you can't just catch me off guard like that."

Giggling softly, you winked at him. "Nobody saw. They're all crowded around that big sale."

"Tch. Like I care if anyone sees."

With a grin, you went off to the closest bathroom.

What you didn't know was Keigo was watching you through the crowd of people. He looked up to everyone around him and gave them a charming grin. "I will get back to autographs in a moment. Please, grant me a break though."

The crowd seemed disappointed but left him alone and allowed Keigo to walk off.

He approached Katsuki quickly, who paid more attention to his phone.

"Ahem. A moment of your time."

Katsuki looked up and his eyes went wide at the sight of the number two hero. "Hawks? Was that you over with that crowd then?"

"Yeah. I see that you've been headlining. Haven't seen your face this famous since the sports festival." Keigo chuckled, taking a step further.

Katsuki nodded. "I'm making moves, on my grind. Doing what needs to be done to make my mark."

The pro hero nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you're doin great. There's just.. One thing."

He looked at him in confusion. "One thing..?"

Keigo pointed towards the direction you went in. "That girl you were just with. That's my little girl."

The red-eyed boy looked, following his finger. "Um, yeah. She told me."

Then there was a sudden tension.

"And so.. You understand why I won't tolerate you're bullshit."

"...What?"

"You heard me. You're older, so you're probably not the same brat. But from what I hear, those asshole tendencies are still there, and I won't tolerate it when it comes to that girl. You won't hurt her. And if you do, we're gonna run into a bit of trouble."

Katsuki shook his head. "I.. I wouldn't hurt her." Normally, he feared no adult, minus Aizawa of course. But Hawks was looking at him like he was prey.

"Damn straight, idiot." Hawks chuckled softly.

That's when you came back over. "Sorry babe. Oh, hey Hawks! What are you doin' here?"

The two of you shared a hug. "What's up, Nugget? I was signing was autographs. You two?"

You pulled away and grinned. "Katsuki and I were on a date. This is great, I've been meaning to introduce you guys."

Hawks gave a nod. "Interesting guy, he is. But I should get going. Have fun on your date. And Katsuki, have her home by nine."

[sleepysnk]

i decided to write some angsty fluff for you guys because i just really wanted to get this idea off my chest. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

He Missed Out

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some angst, swearing

"Still no response?"

(Y/N) sat there on Eren's bed staring at her phone. She was waiting for a reply from Jean, the guy she liked. He was lagging again on her for the 5th time and of course, she went to Eren to rant about it.

Eren and (Y/N) had been best friends since they were toddlers. Eren lived right next to her and their mothers were close, they bathed together, played at the playground, celebrated birthdays, went through the shitty four years of high school, and now they are going through the next four years of college.

The two watched each other grow up. They were no longer these children who played tag or rode bikes until the street light came on, but rather adults who had to prepare for their futures.

Eren's brunette hair was now long, it grew past his shoulders and could be tied in a neat man bun. (Y/N) grew into a woman practically overnight, her face showed her growth.

"I don't know why you're wasting your time, isn't this like the 5th time he's ghosted you?"

Eren stepped into the room with a bag of chips, he tossed it onto his bed so she could take it.

"He didn't ghost me! He's just not sure if he wants a relationship," she replied, grabbing the bag of chips off the side of the bed.

Eren rolled his teal eyes. "Yeah okay.. I've heard that one before. He ghosted you (Y/N), just like last time."

She leaned back against the headboard, she hated how Eren could be so pessimistic sometimes. He always looked at the bad in certain situations, it was clearly his toxic trait. He was too stubborn to admit it though.

She never understood his stubbornness, many people in high school questioned how she dealt with Eren and his crazy mood swings. He had a temper, causing him to get into fist fights and arguments with anyone in the student body that pissed him off. She always told those people that she could easily calm Eren down, somewhat like a comforter for him.

"He'll be back tomorrow," she said, opening the bag of chips and shoving a few in her mouth. Her tongue tasting the saltiness.

Eren didn't necessarily believe that. "Whatever you say.." he replied before plopping down next to her.

A sudden ping from her phone made her ears chirp. She grabbed it seeing Jean's name across the screen, a smile forming onto her lips.

Eren grabbed the phone from her. "Don't respond," he said, placing it next to him.

(Y/N) turned her head towards him. "Why not? Eren! Give me back my phone. It's rude to not respond," she said, trying to reach over and grab it.

His eyes narrowed, "What? (Y/N), you've got to be kidding me. He ignored you for a whole day, it's rude of him to not respond." he felt frustration going through him.

She pouted a bit, crossing her arms. "You never know Eren!"

Eren shoved her phone in his pocket. "Yeah okay.. you better provide the same energy. Don't reply to him and I swear if you do I will call your mom," he said and reached for the remote.

She rolled her eyes at Eren's actions. He didn't know why Jean wasn't responding, so why should he be mad?

"Fine, whatever you say." she said, looking at the tv screen.

-

The next day was another dreaded day of classes and homework. (Y/N) was swamped with assignments and so was Eren, he had so much to do he could barely keep count of the amount of essays and other work he had to do.

"We could study together!" Eren said, nodding his head at (Y/N) as they walked through the campus.

She was on her phone, not paying too much attention which bothered Eren.

"Hello?"

Eren grabbed her phone out of her hands.

"Eren! Give it back!" she yelled, trying to grab it from him.

He stared at the screen, seeing Jean's name displayed on the screen. Jealousy rang through Eren, it made his chest feel tight.

"Seriously?" he said. "I told you to give him a rest, (Y/N) he's literally a dick."

She rolled her eyes before taking her phone back. "Eren I get you're trying to be a good best friend, but really, I got this. He told me he was busy, relax." she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Eren was frustrated, why the hell does she keep going back to the guy? He's put her through so much bullshit and it bothered him to the point that he wanted to punch Jean in the face himself. He always bit his tongue on it, but it was like a thorn in his side whenever she talked or ranted about him. Can't she see what's in front of her?

"Yeah.. whatever.. look I gotta go anyway," Eren said before walking away and leaving her there.

She watched as he turned the corner, fading from her vision. Eren was stubborn but he usually got over things like this, what was the problem now?

Eren scoffed making his way to class, his mind was now clouded with negative thoughts. He wished (Y/N) would just listen to him! No matter how much he tried she wouldn't ever give his words a chance, it's like she didn't want to face the actuality that Jean was a lying asshole.

As Eren turned the corner he was faced with a sight that made his vision turn red.

There was Jean.

Leaning in against another girl.

His green eyes grew wide at the sight, what the fuck was he doing? His eye twitched at the sight, Jean was lying to her. It was blatantly obvious, and that explained why he would disappear for hours to days on end. (Y/N) was his second choice. He whipped out his phone, snapping a photo before heading off to class.

-

Two weeks went by and (Y/N) heard nothing from Eren.

No calls, no texts, nothing.

She tried approaching him at school but he ignored her, he avoided going in the same directions she did and whenever she tried texting him the messages were always opened.

She wasn't sure what she did but she needed her best friend right now. Jean stopped talking to her again, and she needed a listening ear. Eren was her usual go to but without him here, she didn't know what to do.

Here she stood outside Eren's apartment. Her heart thumped in her ears, she could feel it throughout her whole body.

She knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

The door opened, Eren's gaze met hers. She could faintly see his jaw tighten up and his face harden from the sight of her.

"Eren.. um, can we talk?"

He didn't say anything but move so she could enter his apartment. She could smell the faint scent of his body wash on his skin.

"Don't you have class?" he asked, plopping down on a chair.

She fidgeted with her fingers. "Um no.. I finished my classes early," she replied, looking at him nervously.

He nodded his head before sipping the water in his cup. "Mm.. I see"

She felt the awkwardness and tension through the air, something was up. She just didn't know exactly what.

"Jean stopped talking to me again.." she said, avoiding his eyes.

A chuckle escaped Eren's throat. "Huh.. doesn't surprise me but what can I say, you let it happen." he stood up, heading towards the sink.

What the hell? Eren has never said shit like this before to her.

"Okay seriously, what the fuck is your problem!? You ignore me for two weeks and now you're being a dick??" she scoffed.

Eren's head snapped towards her. "My problem? You want the honest truth, (Y/N)? You really wanna hear what the fuck is going on?!" he yelled, his voice sounding serious.

"Yes! It'd be good to know!" she replied, crossing her arms.

He laughed before leaning against the counter. "Jean doesn't fucking like you. Okay? I'm so fucking tired of how dense you are."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What? Eren you don't understand how complicated it is!" she replied.

He laughed again before sliding his phone in front of her. "What's complicated about that huh?"

She picked up the phone, her eyes grew wide at the sight of Jean leaning against another girl. She felt hurt, angry, upset. Nothing could pinpoint how she felt.

"I-I'm.." she felt tears burning her eyes.

"It's so hard being your friend.." he mumbled, looking at her.

Her head shot up, "What?! Eren-"

"No let me fucking speak for once. It's so hard being best friends with you, these guys walk all over you! And guess what? I'm the one who has to fix you! Then what do you do (Y/N)? You go back and let them treat you like shit."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, a few sobs escaped her mouth.

"Eren-"

"I'm not finished, do I gotta remind you? Levi Ackerman during your freshman year? Porco Galliard your junior year? I was there for all of that. You kept going back to them and you never once listened to me! I warned you so many times, yet you rather not face the facts. I was always there to pick up the pieces." he said, his voice loud.

She sobbed, Eren was right. She never listened to him, he always was the one to give her warnings and yet she still went for it anyway.

"Eren.. I-I'm s-sorry.." she cried.

He scoffed, "It's just.. you never saw who was in front of you," he said, looking at the floor.

Her head shot up, "What? What do you mean?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Don't you get it (Y/N)?" he asked.

She shook her head, "N-No..? I don't even understand why you're yelling at me either!" she replied, wiping a few tears off her cheeks.

"Christ (Y/N), I fucking love you that's why!"

Silence filled the room between them. She felt her heart suddenly swell, deep down she always knew she loved Eren.. she just pushed those feelings away because she thought it was just a best friend kind of love. But it was more.

"B-But.. what about Mikasa? A-And Historia?" she asked.

Eren walked towards her. "(Y/N).. I love you, I never loved Mikasa or Historia.. they were just close friends. I always hung around them to try and push what I felt away," he replied.

"I don't understand.. how long? Why didn't you ever just come clean?" she asked, few tears escaping her eyes.

He looked away from her. "(Y/N) I knew I loved you when we started high school, Armin noticed, so did Mikasa. I wanted to come clean sooner but everytime we got close you found another guy and pushed me out of the picture."

Her eyes went to the floor, she was trying to process this information. She never once thought Eren felt the way she did, she always figured that she'd be only a best friend, nothing more.

"Eren.. I'm sorry, I'm such a horrible best friend." she said, sniffling a bit.

He walked in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don't apologize.. I don't wanna see you hurt anymore that's all," he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

She looked into his eyes, she noticed how they softened now. "E-Eren.. I-I love you.." she said, curling her fingers around his wrist.

His eyebrows shot up, "What? N-No you don't.. you're just saying that to make me feel better," he replied, looking away.

She used her hand to turn his face towards her again. "Have I ever lied to you? Eren.. I knew I loved you, I thought it was just a best friend type of love, but I knew deep down it was more than that."

His cheeks dusted pink, "I just... I don't want you saying it because I said it. You genuinely mean so much to me and fuck... (Y/N) I wanna be the one to heal you from everything," he said, cupping her cheek. "I want to make you forget all of the hurt you went through."

She felt a smile grow onto her cheeks. "I'd.. love that," she replied, looking into his hues.

Their faces were now inches apart, his lips ghosted over hers before he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm, the kiss was passionate, it felt.. real. Her arms went around his neck, bringing him down closer to her.

His hands found their way to her hips, he pressed her body against his.

Breaking the kiss, she looked up at him. "I love you.." she said.

A smile grew onto his lips. "I love you too.." he replied. "Please.. let me be the one to heal you from all of this, I promise, I'll never hurt you."

Her cheeks grew warm, "You promise?"

"Have I ever lied to you..?" he asked.

She felt a smile grow onto her features. "Well no.." she replied.

He pecked her lips, "There's your answer, now come on, let me take care of you."

He lifted her up, her legs going around his waist. "Eren! Be careful," she said, slapping his shoulder.

"I won't drop you, trust me!" he said, taking her to his room.

-

"I haven't heard from (Y/N) in days," Jean said, looking at Connie.

He shrugged, "I dunno! Maybe she lost her phone," he said.

Jean sighed, maybe she was just busy? He wasn't sure.

"Uh.. Jean?" Connie said, hitting his arm and pointing at someone.

Jean looked up, his jaw dropping.

There she was, but she wasn't by herself. She was with.. Eren??

"Ha! Sucks to be you!" Connie said, chuckling at Jean's expression.

He glared at him, "Shut up! What the hell?! That doesn't make sense.. she was talking to me!" he said.

Eren smirked as he walked past Jean and Connie, his hand around (Y/N)'s waist. He felt enjoyment watching Jean get pissed, he also seemed to take in that Jean noticed the small bite marks around her neck. All provided by Eren of course.

"Stupid Eren.." Jean mumbled.

Eren looked at (Y/N), she smiled up at him. "That was probably the most petty thing I've done," she giggled.

Eren smirked, leaning down to kiss her lips. "He missed out," he replied.

"He certainly did." she said, taking his hand into hers and going to class.

[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny

[shy-peacock]

Something happens at one of the families homes, idk maybe a house flood after a storm, so Benja or Virana ask the other if they can stay with them for a while, because the parents are friends but Raya and Namaari most CERTAINLY aren’t. They have to get used to living around eachother and maybe share a bed…👀

Short-ish, Rated T and silly.

Enjoy <3

It was the storm of the century.

Apparently.

The news claimed that the entirety of the city was going to flood, yet Raya didn’t see one drop of rain the day the storm was due to arrive. The clouds gathered, thunder tumbled through the sky, but the South end of the city didn’t see anything noteworthy from the storm.

The North, however, was hit hard.

Basements flooded, houses were struck by lightning, and the winds tore trees clear out of the ground. The aftermath of the storm was catastrophic, which had many temporarily homeless. Taking shelter with family, friends or, if they didn’t have anything, in pop-up shelters at schools or hotel rooms paid for by the city.

Raya knew maybe one or two people personally who were affected by the storm, however her Father made it his mission to house as many people as he could find. Distant relatives, friends from a job he had years ago, all taking shelter in their guest rooms and basement dwellings that they filled with cots and made up beds on couches. Housing them in their time of need, guesstimating a month, give or take. At least twenty people under their roof.

Their house had never had so much noise in it before.

This was, of course, not a problem at all to Raya, who loved that her Father was generous with the space they clearly had a lot of.

However, a problem presented itself all the same. A problem Raya hadn’t even thought of. Not until it was staring at her from the other side of their doorway.

Namaari.

Namaari Fang, precisely.

Her Mother and Raya’s Father worked together, Raya having the unfortunate pleasure of seeing Namaari often over the years that their parents had this work relationship. Family dinners, Christmas invites, hell- Raya even went to the same high school with Namaari. That being a living hell in itself, spending each day being irritated by the girl.

Namaari knew how to get under her skin. How to make Raya feel like she was going to explode with her taunts and teasing, egging her on just to get her attention. A shit-eating grin on her face when Raya finally caved and opted in for whatever stupid thing Namaari wanted to best her at. Taking on Miss Fang’s challenges, whatever they may be in, who meant to prove to Raya that she was the better of the two of them. Strength testing, grades, clubs, video or board games, sports; Anything Raya could do, Namaari claimed she could do better.

Everyone knew about their rivalry, especially their parents. The two adults sighing and complaining all day long about how the two of them should just “get along” or “stop messing with the other so much”. Wanting them to be friends, especially as their work relationship deepened over the years. Solidifying trust, wanting that same connection built for each of their daughters.

These comments mimicked that of their friends, who often joked that the two of them were “made for each other” and “secretly liked one another”, seeing them get riled up over the others' actions. Comments that had Raya roll her eyes at. Far too proud to admit that their parents and friends could be right and they were wrong. That she’d grappled with the idea that Namaari and her should be friends instead of forcing this “mortal enemy” bullshit that got them going each day. That it was clear that their so-called messing with each other was some sort of mask to hide the fact that they cared about one another quite a lot.

No- Raya would never admit to anyone alive that they were right about all of that.

I mean-…it wasn’t right..wasn’t true!

Not intentionally!

Not at first….at least..

Raya was thinking just that as Namaari’s hand wandered her body, roughly, her tongue moving against Raya’s as they made out. Wondering how or when they went from enemies to friends to the lovebirds that they were. Stolen away in the laundry room of all places, pressed against the wall, the two of them taking advantage of this spare moment of privacy they were given. Which, in a house of more than twenty people, was rare.

They didn’t start this relationship because of the storm, being forced to live in the same space as the other. No, this whole ‘secret affair’ had been slowly brewing since graduation.

Raya’s friends flew out across the country to start their new college lives. Picking up jobs as interns or going right into their careers with a family business. Raya stayed local, unsure what she wanted to do, and Namaari planned on following in her Mother’s footsteps. She had little social life and Namaari was just as lonely as her crew had been hacked to pieces by this new transition in their lives. So when they bumped into one another at random, ironically out to build friendships with coworkers or fellow students in their class, the two bailed on the others and instead spent time with one another. Starting them down this path that eventually led them to being lovers.

Raya lied to herself and said it was because she was lonely, she missed having friends or someone to talk to. And when their relationship began to turn to more intimate levels, she again told herself it was only because she needed something physical. Not ideally Namaari, just a body.

Nothing more or less.

Until it definitely became more and a lot less-…less.

A love confession later and they were official.

Nearly official..! The both of them kept this relationship on the low when it came to everyone else in their lives. Wanting this time between each other, enjoying it before the outside world looked in. No doubt everyone was going to have a lot to say as the two of them did just what everyone thought they were gonna do.

Reason why they were making out in Raya’s laundry room, the dryer blasting heat on nothing but a pair of socks. Unable to get alone time when they stayed in a house full of people in it. People they didn’t want to know about their relationship.

Especially their parents.

Raya felt teeth scrape her neck and she jerked back, reluctantly, her body wanting Namaari to claim her neck. Bite into the flesh, sucking, before she soothed it with her tongue. But an action like that would leave a mark, red or a soft purplish hue, one she would have to spend days trying to remember to hide. Easily forgotten with everything going on.

“You can’t leave a mark..” Raya huffed, whining as she gave Namaari quite a look.

Namaari mimicked her look, “I wasn’t going to bite you that hard..”

“Don’t bite me at all!” Raya hissed, “not where people can see at least-”

Namaari arched an eyebrow, a wicked smile filling her lips.

“So I can…as long as no one can see it..?” she teased, bending her head down, kissing along her neck again until she ran them lower towards her chest. Strong hands coming up to cup her breasts, giving them a tiny squeeze that had Raya’s voice crack when she spoke.

“I…was..thinking lower..” she husked, eyes closing as Namaari got down on her knees. A broken whine lifted into the air as Namaari brought her hands down, taking a hold of her hips as she kissed her stomach.

“Hmm..me too..” she felt Namaari breathe hotly on her skin.

Raya was so into it, her body arching already into her touch. Brain melted like butter, skin crawling in anticipation of the pleasure Namaari would be delivering her. Eager for it, unable to last another moment without her girlfriend touching her so good.

Raya was lost in the euphoric feeling, however Namaari either had an excellent sense of hearing or she had amazing reflexes. Probably both. Because one minute she was nearly about to pull Raya’s pants down and have her way with her, the next she was standing up and taking about three steps back from Raya. Acting calm and collected while Raya was still trying to understand where the warmth of Namaari’s body had gone. A second later, the door to the laundry room opened up.

“Oh!” a woman squeaked out, eyes wide as she saw the laundry room was inhabited by others. Startled by their presence, definitely not expecting them. A small child was in one arm while the other held a basket of laundry. Raya couldn’t recall the woman’s name whatsoever, but she definitely knew the kid’s name was Noi. A sneaky little brat, often stealing everyone’s things and hiding them away so they couldn’t find them again. Always watching, sticking her snotty nose into everyone’s business. Including Raya’s it seemed as her Mom seemed to chalk up their being in the laundry room as normal while her child could only give them a suspicious glare. Knowing something was off about them.

“I’m sorry-..we had enough for a load so we figured it wouldn’t hurt to get some of our things cleaned before my Mother comes down to pick us up.” Noi’s Mother claimed, all smiles while Noi was full of annoyance. “Did-..I interrupt-”

“No.” both Raya and Namaari quickly said, looking at the other awkwardly before Namaari took the reigns.

“We were just leaving…!” she laughed, slipping past the woman and her snot-nosed kid, Raya close behind.

The two escaping out of the laundry room, further into the hall and around the corner before they allowed themselves to relax. A sigh tearing through them, hearts racing, knowing how close that had come to them being caught.

“That was..a bit…close.” Namaari even said, putting the words right out there, “Maybe we should just stick to sneaking around at night..?”

Raya nodded, her face still hot and red from embarrassment. Thanking the Gods above that the two of them hadn’t been caught in the middle of what they planned to do, pants down and Namaari’s head in between her legs.

God..what a way for everyone to find out.

A silence crept before them, soft and easy, nearly causing Raya to laugh then at the ridiculousness of the situation they were in. A smile on her face that Namaari held as well, both of them thinking the same thing. Were they really going to keep this up forever? Would finding out be so bad? Raya didn’t think so and, at least from the way her girlfriend reached for her hand then, she was sure her feelings were mutual at that.

One day they’d go for it, but they were content for now with keeping this a secret.

“Same time tonight then?” Raya asked, “meet me in my room?”

Namaari smirked, “Absolutely.”

Her thumb stroked Raya’s hand, lovingly, taking a glance around before moving in to place a small kiss on her lips. Raya eagerly accepting it, the two savoring it for now. Keeping this token of affection with them until the end of the-

“I KNEW IT!”

Both Namaari and Raya flew back, turning to see that same snot-nosed brat creeping around the corner. Face bright with a triumphant look, her stubby finger pointed their way. Absolutely thriving off the fact she had just seen them kiss.

“You guys kissed!” she yelled, “you’re in love!”

“You little-!” Raya growled, chasing her down.

“EVERYONE RAYA AND NAMAARI ARE IN LOOOOOVE!” Noi yelled as she ran away, “L…O….V…E…!”

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Raya growled again, Namaari then chasing after her girlfriend while Raya looked hellbent on doing what she just said to Noi.

“Raya!” Namaari gasped, “she’s five!”

“-AND SO DEAD!” Raya snarled.

“-AND I WAS RIGHT!” Noi added.

So-..maybe they weren’t as secretive as they thought they were being. And perhaps that ‘someday’ they hoped to tell the family, just turned into ‘today’.